Girls und Panzer: Open Warfare
by HereticalShinigami
Summary: A new season of tankery begins, and the military cadets want in on the action! New challengers, new tanks, and old acquaintances appear on the battlefield. Numerous original characters. Some main characters, no one main character. Romance not to be expected, likely implicit or minimal. Occasional music cues. T for things I may write, like swearing and injury.
1. Chapter 1: A new challenger!

**This will be my first fanfic, and is a redraft of a chapter I wrote a while ago. After posting originally, I received a wonderful and constructive review from Severstal which helped me think over and redraft a patchy idea into what I hope is a better one. I hope if you read this, that you enjoy it.**

**I clearly don't own Girls und Panzer. I don't even own a Panzer (wish I did).**

**They won the nationals, but what happens when another set of academies gets involved?**

**12 January (A/N arbitrary date to help me pace this fic) – Zuikaku aircraft carrier (Oarai School)**

Following the battle with Kuromorimine academy, the remainder of the term and the winter break had come and gone for Oarai High School. Miho had spent most of it with her friends, occasionally returning to the school for friendly out-of-term matches against other academies, particularly St Gloriana, and overall, had enjoyed the time spent relaxing, even seeing her sister infrequently. The students returned to the school in the autumn well refreshed and ready for another season of battle, boarding the carrier that was the school's home. They were ready for the nationals again, and another season of competing at tankery. So, at 9AM, the school's tankery teams assembled, some with bleary eyes, and waited for their instructor to arrive.

"Right girls, listen up!" came the voice of Ami, Oarai's tankery instructor, as she strode round the side of the tank shed not two minutes later. All members of the school's team were present on the drill ground in front of the tank shed.

"We did well in the nationals last term, but this time the League is upping the ante! Tankery is becoming more popular again, so the League officials have agreed to take Wellesley Royal Military Academy and their counterparts into the League this term. They are one of 4 prestigious military schools, the others being Bradley, Scharnhorst and Kutusov academies, so this will round the number of academies out at 20 for the nationals. This school is highly militarised, and some are the children of serving officers, so expect skilled, intelligent strategies in tankery. They usually compete at the next tier of sensha-do, for those of college student age**. **For this year, however, they are also entering on the high school level with a new team. Don't underestimate them though, as cadets, they'll be well trained. Oh, and don't forget that these academies are mixed gender military schools." Ami said this with a gleam in her eye, knowing that it would get one of the crew motivated immediately.

Upon hearing this small nugget of information, Saori's ears twitched, and she resisted the urge to leap into the air. "There's going to be good-looking men for me to woo!" she proclaimed. Miho was less giddy.

"I've heard of this academy. As Ami said, they're a military academy, so they'll be well-equipped and efficient, albeit a little inexperienced, if they're only joining the league now. They might have some experience from lower years like I did, and they will be training hard. We have a clear experience lead, and our crews are evidently capable now, but our tanks are still underpowered, at least in comparison with Kuromorimine and Pravda. So we may have to retrofit and improvise," she whispered to herself. The rest of the girls were excitedly conversing amongst themselves in hushed tones, barring Riko 'Erwin' Matsumoto, who remained oddly quiet, removing her hat from her head and staring at it in contemplation.

"I'll be back in 2 weeks when they publish the matchups and friendlies timetable! I expect you girls to practice hard and prepare well! They're not going to be pushovers!" Ami shouted, as she turned and strode away from the group. All eyes turned on Miho.

"Well commander, what do we do?" asked Anzu. The impish student president was, as usual, snacking on something, and she gave a little wave to Miho, who looked deep in thought.

"We'll have to see if we can bring in some new vehicles somehow, with heavier guns, and retrofit the tanks we currently possess to be more competitive. What we mainly need to work on is initiative, and just train, train, train. Practice makes perfect after all, our teams, while good at working together, sometimes seem to be overly reliant on my instructions, which could be a crippling weakness if our Panzer is knocked out early in an elimination game. So, thinking independently is to be emphasised, and we should also establish a chain of command in case the command tank is knocked out. So if the student council can secure new weapons, I'll being working on training our crews up more." Miho replied.

"Super! We'll get right on that," Anzu responded.

"Yuzu, Momo, go and call up the headmaster, and tell him to allocate more funding to the team that saved the school, eh?" Yuzu and Momo sighed, and ran off to follow the president's orders. Anzu, rather than do anything productive, pulled out a bag of sweets, walked into the tank shed and sat down.

"Every other team, to your tanks! Let's get some training done!" shouted Miho. With that, every girl on the training field scrambled into the tank shed and started up their tanks with a loud roar. Miho, sitting in the turret of her Panzer IV, began mentally writing off which tanks would be useless in the upcoming battle. While she had no clue as to the Wellesley's composition of tanks, she was sure that some of the light tanks in Oarai's arsenal would be too weak to compete. Certainly, the volleyball club's (Duck team) type 89B would need some work, as perhaps would Anteater team's (the gamer girls) Chi-nu type 3. The B1 of Mallard team (the ethics committee) was dubious too. Their sheer lack of mobility and average firepower was a hindrance against every well-armed team in the league, although the armour of the B1 made it highly difficult to disable against some tanks. The M3 Lee crewed by the 1st year girls (Rabbit Team) could be useful, mainly due to its dual guns, but its high profile and low manoeuvrability made it exposed, and so it was a tossup between it and the type 3. The staples of the team would be the Panzer IV of her Anglerfish team, the STUG III of Hippo Team, the Porsche Tiger of the Mechanics Club (Leopon team) and the Hetzer of Turtle Team (the student council).

'The match is organised along standard lines, I am assuming,' thought Miho, 'which means we potentially have a great number of opposing tanks to face. While we have 4 powerful tanks, the Porsche Tiger is a little prone to mechanical failure, and so we need reliable backups available. A little improvement to our roster wouldn't go amiss if we have to face Kuromorimine again.' Miho thought.

"Yukari, are there any variants or upgrades possible for some of our weaker vehicles? I highly doubt we can get enough funding to buy in totally new tanks," she asked.

"Well sure! The type 89 is clearly our weakest link, made in the 1920s, but if we want it more efficient, we could adjust the armour and engine to make an Otsu variant. That's about it for that one though. The chi-nu was a prototype that never saw service, so there isn't much we can do there. The M3 Lee has a number of variants, although most are non-combat. I mean, if we had time, we could pretty much make the Ram tank out of it…." The loader responded, turning to look at Miho.

"That's a Canadian tank right?" Miho asked quizzically.

"Yeah! It never saw service, but it apparently performed in trials way better than the M3, and it lacks some of its worse flaws, but it would also require a total refit, as the upper hull, turret and gun are completely different. I mean, we managed that on the Hetzer, right? So we should be able to do the same thing again. The B1 is kinda stuck though, because the league won't look kindly on the other variant, considering it has a flame-thower…." Yukari trailed off.

"Agreed," Miho replied. "We have some spare guns though, and we could get in more parts from other vehicles if we needed. Non-standard refits aren't banned by the league, even if they don't look on them favourably…"

"We'll have to see how much money we can weasel out of the headmaster then before we plan any new vehicle overhauls."

Miho turned her mind to how exactly the Oarai roster could be improved, and how much it could cost. The roar of the Panzer starting underneath her interrupted her deliberations, as Mako set the behemoth grinding forward.

"Right girls! First exercise is team battle, total elimination! Rabbit, Mallard, and Leopon teams vs Hippo, Duck and Anteater teams! Rabbit and Duck, you're the captains of each team! Battle starts in 10 minutes so plan your moves and roll out!" Miho broadcasted over the radio. A chorus of affirmatives came back over the crackling set, as each team split off and headed into different parts of the woods, engines roaring. The practice ground was rocky terrain, with narrow paths, ridges and some dead ground, excellent for ambushes. Mako positioned the Panzer on a ridge to the extreme North of the field, with a commanding view of almost the entire field, so Miho and the rest of Anglerfish team could observe the practice session. The eastern side of the battlefield had team 1, under Rabbit team, while in the west were Duck team's team 2. In the northernmost part of the field, barely visible in a hull-down position in the dead ground, was the STUG of Hippo team, whose lower profile and camouflage scheme made them extremely difficult to spot for Miho's eyes, and even then she could see them only due to her raised position. South of them, on a ridge with their hull partially obscured by rock, but clearly visible, was the type 89B of Duck team, whose commander Isobe had chosen a commanding position to survey the field. On team 2's right flank was Anteater team and their type 3 chi-nu, using the colouration of their vehicle to camouflage themselves amidst a small copse of trees. A well-rounded ambush strategy in all, Miho thought, using the ability of manoeuvrable and weaker tanks to ambush superior foes. However, it would fall to Duck team to keep the cohesion required for a well-placed ambush, as without proper coordination, each tank could be picked off one by one.

Taking completely the opposite approach was team 1, who were drawn up in tight formation in the centre of the field, with Rabbit team's M3 in the middle, Leopon's Tiger(P) on the right, and Mallard's B1 on the left. Rabbit team appeared to be concerned for their own tank, with its weak side and rear armour, and were using their more well-armoured comrades to cover this. To some, it could seem that their self-preservation was getting the better of them, forsaking sound strategy in favour of brute force, due to their better armed and armoured tanks. However, Miho knew that Rabbit team had mostly gotten over their initial morale issues, and that this could be a ruse on their part, hoping to lure the somewhat gung-ho volleyball girls into springing their trap too early. The partially angled orientation of the B1 Bis and the Tiger P suggested that this tight grouping could split rapidly if needed,

To signal the start, the Panzer IV would fire off a blank round. Yukari dutifully slammed home a round into the KwK 40, and Hana fired the shot off a second later. The crew then opened all the hatches, and sat back to watch the show, except Mako, who was asleep in her driver's seat already.

The match began with the roaring of engines.

Location Shift -

**Carrier Dauntless, Wellesley Royal Military Academy, 1100 Hours, somewhere at sea**

"I see the league authorities have allowed us into this year's sensha-do nationals, sir."

"Yes, usually only public schools compete with each other, but we felt this year we should extend tankery to a new age group for our academy, and the league has graciously allowed us in, but not without a little opposition." The two voices conversing had a clear difference in age, one old and gruff, and the other young, with a clipped and crisp accent, which would have sounded nice if it wasn't ever so slightly wavering. Both were wearing grey, well-pressed military shirts, with thin dark-blue trim, combined with black trousers and well-polished boots. The older man had several prestigious looking medals arrayed on his shirt, while the younger man possessed only one. Each also bore a holster on their right hip, although the worn grip on the older man's pistol demonstrated long service, whilst the pristine condition of the other man's stood testament to his lack of actual field experience.

"How long do we have to prepare for our first match headmaster?" asked the younger man.

"3 weeks, John."

"Which tanks are we allowed to utilise?"

"Any non-experimental vehicles, and make sure to use different types."

"And no.131?"

"You may as well. I know our cadet captain will enjoy that tank, and high morale makes it easier to attain victory."

"Yes sir. I believe I shall hold briefings in 2 hours, sir, directly after lunch."

"Splendid. Good day."

The younger man saluted, turned on his heel crisply and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Once he had left the room, he slumped against the door frame and wiped his brow. At 28, John Hart was one of the youngest instructors at Wellesley academy, and had been selected to teach tankery due to his theoretical work, not his field experience. Of average height and lean build, John did not look the part of a soldier. The headmaster, on the other hand, was a grizzled veteran who had seen service in 7 theatres and a variety of commands before retiring to Wellesley academy to teach. The other apparent role the headmaster fulfilled was scaring the living hell out of John, and most of the other staff too, being both more aggressive, and a good deal more physically imposing than many people. After composing himself following the ordeal of confronting such a man, Hart went to search for his new armoured warfare cadets, his boots ringing on the deck plating.

**1300 Hours**

On the deck of the carrier, immediately after lunch, roughly 45 students, 5 of whom were in mechanic overalls, assembled on a drill ground, surrounded on 3 sides by a large number of tank sheds. The school itself maintained a large number of tanks, British or allied, as would be expected of a British military academy, although the vast proportion were earmarked for use by the senior students, cutting the available number to 9. It would seem that the seniors had taken most of the standard and heavy vehicles, which meant there could be some reasonable variety in the high schoolers' roster. One of the available sheds in particular stood out, as it was marked by the academy's logo, an imperial eagle gripping the Union flag, but also had an Iron Cross painted beneath it.

The students formed into perfect ranks on the drill ground, 5 ranks of 9, and waited for their instructor. John composed himself and then stepped in front of the formation, whose eyes fixed upon him like a targeting array.

"As I am sure you are aware, our school normally competes in tankery from 18 years old and up, but we found that there was a great deal of interest from you lower years, so we petitioned and were accepted by the league to compete at high school level. So, we have tanks available, and in three weeks, we have our first match. I've done all I can to teach you strategy, but for practical considerations I believe I am not suited to teaching you. I can offer you tactical advice, but I think the best way for you to learn would be to form your teams as you wish and then get to manoeuvres," he said the last part with confidence, seeing many of the students filled with eagerness. He walked over to one side of the sheds and flicked a switch, opening 8 of the 9 sheds. The Iron cross shed remained closed.

"Here are the tanks we have available for our roster. Bear in mind we cannot field them all at once, but being able to field a flexible team is important," John announced, beginning a slow walk down the sheds. "With that in mind, we have: the A34 Comet I, the M10 Achilles, two mark VII Churchill tanks, although one is in need of some repair, 3 A27M Cromwell tanks, and one M24 Chaffee. Each of these has different strengths, so combination will be beneficial to a solid strategy." John walked to the final shed.

"The headmaster has chosen our team captain for the year based on his observations of our class. He has given clearance for our captain to take no.131 as his flag tank if he so chooses," he said, as he flicked the switch on the final, unopened shed. The shed swung open to reveal, "The Panzer VI, or Tiger tank, a powerful war machine of the Wehrmacht, no.131 is the only functioning Tiger that a non-German academy possesses."

Hart turned back to the cadets, looking directly at a boy in the 3rd rank, slightly smaller than average, wearing a long leather military coat over his uniform, whose dark eyes had lit up behind a pair of thin framed rectangular glasses at the opening of the Tiger's shed. All of the other students turned and looked at the boy too.

"So, do you want no.131 as your command tank, Captain Pearce?"

The boy let a rare smile curl the edges of his mouth upward.

"It's the best way to see the world sir, from the turret of a Panzer," he replied, with a slightly amused edge to his crisp tone.

"Then get the teams organised, and get mounted up!" Hart said, a small smile coming to his face. Pearce walked out of the ranks, and began to organise the teams and assign vehicles, the same minute smile still steady on his features. It was quite unnerving, mainly because Hart had never seen the boy smile before. At least the boy was eager.

**So there you have it! End of my first chapter. I won't make any excuses, it is a setup piece for further work. I just wanted to get it out there. Props if you can spot all the history references I tried to sneak in. I'm trying to do a double viewpoint, maybe with a couple of main characters in each to provide several perspectives. Tell me what you think!**

**This is just a call to all readers to please review my work. I enjoy reading constructive criticism, or even just an 'I liked it/disliked it' and would love to have more feedback from you.**

**It may be a while before I can put another chapter out, I'm going into exams at the moment so revision kinda takes precedence, much as I wish it didn't.**

**Next time on Girls und Panzer: Team talk! Practice Battle and Organisation.**


	2. Chapter 2: Practice time!

**Here is chapter 2 of Girls und Panzer Open Warfare. First battle scene, and a little attempt at some more character introduction for my academy.****  
****(I was originally going to do a ton of musical cues, but I think the OST should cover most of them, if not I have suggested some alternatives)**

**Carrier Dauntless - Wellesley Royal Military Academy – 1305 Hours**

Walking out of the ranks of his assembled fellows, newly appointed Captain Samuel Pearce allowed himself a small smile on his otherwise tightly controlled features. Hart looked the boy up and down. The Captain was one of the higher year cadets there, at 18yrs old, and so would only get a few tournaments in charge before graduating to the next level of tankery. He knew the boy aimed to make these few as successful as possible. Pearce's lack of physicality compared to many of the more typical recruits had made some question exactly why he was a cadet at all, as despite competence in martial arts and fitness classes, his lack of strength made beating the bigger students difficult. The only martial class Sam was above average in was sword sparring, and that was where Hart had found the boy before class, practicing on his own in one of the fitness halls. Two other people had been observing at a distance, but Hart didn't catch who they were. The boy was motivated though, whirling through practice drills with a hand-and-a-half sword. Hart had seen the results of the more academic classes too. While an average soldier at best, as a commander, Pearce had a strategic mind, bordering on scary, especially given his often callous nature to his soldiers. His answers to theoretical questions, while superb, often resulted in the sacrifice of units wholesale to achieve total victory, rather than conserving his forces in favour of smaller tactical victories. There was a truly dangerous mind behind Pearce's glasses.

As he neared Hart's position in front of the men, Pearce brushed an errant strand of hair back into place, restoring his short, dark brown hair to full neatness, a small fringe at the front swept to the side. Straightening his military coat and glasses, once he reached the front he pivoted on his heel next to John, the instructor giving him a small nod to indicate permission to begin speaking. The boy's imperceptible smile had disappeared, a fixed expression of distance and calculation restored to his features.

"Good morning fellow cadets," he began, "Considering that many of us are new to tankery, or even an understanding of tanks in general, and that I don't know all of you particularly well, I am going to select team captains, and then they are going to pick those of you who they think have both the aptitude and the camaraderie to work well together. If needed, we can adjust the team roles after practice. Understood?" asked Sam, as he projected his voice across the deck.

"Yes captain!" came the uniform response of his fellows.  
"First, in the Achilles tank destroyer, we are having Christopher Taylor."  
A relatively tall boy with mid-length brown hair came forward, slouching a little as he did so. Peculiarly, he seemed to be wearing a Japanese style hat, covering his face from the sun.  
"I'd rather be sleeping bro, but you're the boss," Chris said to Sam as he came to stand to the right of him. Pearce regarded him expressionlessly.  
"I need a cool head in that Achilles, and if you were any more lax and chilled, you'd have frostbite Christopher," replied Sam, "I also expect you to be more respectful when we're on duty."  
"That's cold, sir," responded Chris, an expression of faux-offence on his visage.  
"I thought you were the chilled one, Christopher," shot back Pearce caustically. He returned his attention to his fellow cadets in front of him.  
"For our M24 Chaffee, Miss Angela Clark, if you'd like to take command?" Pearce pointed to a tall girl with short black hair, who had been glowering at him only a second ago. Evidently, she wanted to be commander. The girl's expression lightened a little as she took her place to Chris's right.  
"I know you won't let me down, Miss Clark," said Sam, in a low register that carried only to those stood near him.  
"I don't like that you're our commander, but it's been decided. Just don't mess up, because I certainly won't," she retorted, but the statement carried no malice.  
"I don't need you to like me, just do your job. I don't brook insubordination," Pearce silenced Angela with that remark.

Having filled the specialist positions on his team, Pearce began filling in the core of his tank force.

"Miss Rowley, Mr Hawke and Miss Armstrong, please come forward, you shall be our commanders of the A27M Cromwell tanks."

Three figures paced out from the line, and took their places. Anna Rowley was a short girl with large, circular glasses, and brown hair done up in a bun. As one of the technology-focused cadets, her main distinguishing feature was a lab coat, which she had opted to keep on over her uniform. By contrast, Stephen Hawke was a tall, black haired lad with a clearly sporty physique. If one talked to him, the main thing they would take away was his gung-ho attitude, coupled with a strong London accent. The final captain, Katherine Armstrong, was fairly petite, with blonde hair held up at the back. She cast a glance at Chris as she passed him, their eyes locking for a second, before they both returned to a business-like demeanour.

"Simon Williams, Liam Andrews, you two can be our Churchill commanders, although Simon, you may wish to liaise with our engineers to fix your one back to working order. And speaking of engineers, Elliot Jones, you are in command of our A34 Comet."

Simon, a short black haired boy, stumbled out of the ranks. He tripped as he was walking forward, and was caught by a blonde haired girl, who gave him a wry smile. He blushed and hurried into position with the other commanders. Liam, on the other hand, strolled out, one hand in his pockets. He was a lad of medium height, short brown hair, and soft features. A book was tucked into his back pocket. The final captain took slightly more time to arrive, being at the back of the formation. His engineering side was clear, by both the wrench he was holding, and a blue variant of the standard uniform to further demarcate him. Otherwise, he was a little unprepossessing, of average height, build and demeanour, with short-ish brown hair.

All of the captain's roles now filled, each captain took turns in selecting their teams from amongst the remaining recruits. Some were unsurprising, with Elliot taking his engineering colleagues into a team, the sporty guys following Stephen, and a coterie of girls following Angela. A cluster of lab coats indicated Roberts team, chosen by Anna and essentially composed from the R&D cadets. The other teams were less homogenous in their makeup. Sam turned to John to ask him a question.

"Sir, considering you assembled us for tankery, perhaps you might wish to name our teams for us?"

John was taken off guard for a second. He fully expected Pearce to disregard him now that he was captain of the team. To be consulted was a tad unexpected.

"It would be an honour," he replied.

**Meanwhile….**

**Zuikaku Carrier – Oarai Girls Academy**

Quite unlike their counterparts in Wellesley, who were still assembling their teams, the Oarai girls were getting some practice in. As the noise of the Panzer's main gun echoed across the valley, the two competing teams put their plans into action. For Duck team and their allies, that meant waiting, while Rabbit team took the more direct route. Engines firing, the B1, M3 and Tiger P all beat a fairly direct path towards the Type 89B, at which Isobe grinned triumphantly. Rabbit had taken the bait. The incoming fire from the three rolling tanks was somewhat more worrying. One lucky hit, from the Tiger especially, could put the Type 89 out of action and leave Team 2 leaderless and without coordination. Fortunately, Isobe had chosen her position wisely. Shinobu had positioned the tank well, as she had left just enough of the tank exposed to be clear, yet obscured by the intervening rocks enough to make being hit highly unlikely, so as to draw in the enemy without being picked off at range. And thus far it was working.

Waiting in the dead ground just to the north of the ridge Duck team had chosen, Hippo team sat, prepared to strike. As usual, the team were discussing which historical battle this engagement most represented.

"This glorious engagement shall resemble the battle of Trebia, where the cavalry waited out of view while the enemy charged the infantry before closing the trap!" declared Caesar.  
"The Romans lost that one!" shouted Saemonza.  
"I know! But one must agree that Hannibal was a more than worthy adversary," Caesar replied.  
"It more resembles the battle of Okehazama, where Oda Nobunaga and his men ambushed Imagawa Yoshimoto and slaughtered them all!" suggested Saemonza.  
"The massacre at Kurikara also comes to mind," interjected Oryou.  
"I would prefer it if the battle resembled the early stages of Stalingrad, where Kurt Pfreundtner destroyed 9 Russian tanks in 20 minutes, using his trusty Sturmgeschütz," proposed Erwin, poking her head back into the tank from the cupola, where she had been observing the movements of the enemy through her binoculars.  
"If we're lucky we may even receive the knight's cross, much like he did."  
"I would prefer a wreath of oak leaves, or a phalera disk to wear with pride," responded Caesar.  
"Regardless, get the kanone loaded, we may have to move soon, and we won't get any medals if we get knocked out."

Erwin returned to observing the enemy.

The Gamer girls on the other hand were discussing the potentiality to improve sensha-do based on their gaming experience. Their commander, Nekota, much like Erwin in her StuG, was sat high in the turret, watching the enemy advance.

"I'm telling you Piyotan, if we dropped loot when tanks were defeated, it would both encourage progression of the vehicles, and be a good incentive to play!" proposed Momoga.  
Piyotan was less convinced.  
"But Momoga, where would we store loot to drop? We only have a limited space in our tank, and tanks are so varied item drops wouldn't really be a clever idea." She replied.  
"But everyone knows the best part of any game is the loot! Pragmatism aside, it would be really cool. What do you think Nekota?"

Nekota ducked her head back into the tank's interior.

"Item drops are always a fun aspect of a game, and in such competitions as these where they are multiplayer, they can provide balance, avoiding the pay-to-win systems that some MMOs suffer from. For instance, if one compared Bonple with Kuromorimine, they are as well matched as a Lv1 Frost Mage against an Ice Giant. We all know how that matchup goes. A more even system increases competitiveness and player enjoyment within a game," she suggested, the other two girls nodding in response.  
"But to make sure the enemy does not utilise their stealth attribute overmuch, I must return to watching for the enemy, utilising my perception skills." Nekota said this as she returned her attention to the outside world, leaving the two other girls to continue their debate.

While these internal dialogues were occurring, Team 1 was roaring across country, closing the distance between them and the tank of Duck team, exposed as it was on the ridge. Unlike Team 2, which was maintaining radio silence, Team 1 had no such compunctions, and Rabbit team was maintaining tight control and contact between its vehicles. During the initial deployment, Azusa had come up with a strategy based primarily on the ability of their tanks to take hits, compared to the relatively light nature of the Team 2 vehicles. At this point, Saki, the soft-spoken loader of the team, had suggested that team 2 may use their manoeuvrable nature and small size to conceal themselves, much as the Oarai Hetzer tank had done against Kuromorimine. Azusa took this to heart, and was far more alert with regard to ambushes. Each tank leader, Nakajima in the Tiger, Azusa in the M3, and Sodoko in the B1 were all watching vigilantly from the cupolas of their tanks.

"The type 89 is clearly visible, almost too exposed for any tank commander taking up a static position, particularly with the thickness of their armour. We'll have to keep a sharp look out for any ambushes or flank attacks. I want Leopon and Rabbit to swing round to the right of the hill, and then advance up on the type 89 from behind. The B1 will advance straight up the slope to greet them. Between us and those rocks, they'll have nowhere to run," Azusa broadcast over the radio.

Two clear acknowledgements of the plan came back over the radio.

The tanks of Team 1 began to steadily shift their formation, with the B1 staying true, while the Tiger and M3 began a slight deviation of course towards the dead ground on the right. This move did not go unnoticed by the tanks of Team 2. Certainly, one StuG commander was not pleased by this, as it would undoubtedly ruin their ambush. She expressed this in very few words indeed.

"Shit!" Erwin exclaimed, putting the situation rather eloquently, snapping her binoculars down.  
Grasping the microphone neckpiece, she reported in to Duck team.  
"Commander, I believe our plan might be compromised. The enemy seems to intend to envelop the hill, as they have changed course marginally. This could be like the Falaise pocket all over again in we don't change plans."

In the cupola of the type 89, Isobe grimaced. This was not a good situation. It could perhaps be turned around in some way though.

"Alright team, here's the plan," she broadcast over the radio net.

**Dauntless - Wellesley Academy**

**(The Coldstream Guards – Milanollo March music)**

"I see what you've done here sir, you've named each team after a commander of ours. Very clever," said Pearce.  
"I try," replied Hart, "Just remember the order is:"

Montgomery team – Tiger 131 – Commander: Samuel Pearce  
Wavell team – M10 Achilles – Captain: Christopher Taylor  
Campbell team – M24 Chaffee – Captain: Angela Clark  
Roberts team – A27M Cromwell – Captain: Anna Rowley  
Russell team – A27M Cromwell – Captain: Stephen Hawke  
Clinton team – A27M Cromwell – Captain: Katherine Armstrong  
Allenby team – MkVII Churchill – Captain: Liam Andrews  
Marlborough team – MkVII Churchill – Captain: Simon Williams  
Hobart team – A34 Comet – Captain: Elliot Jones

While the captains had been listening to Hart come up with team designations, the rest of the cadets were clustered around each of their tanks. Pearce cast his gaze over them with a look of disinterestedness. Campbell team were maintaining a respectful distance from their tank, looking expectantly at Angela, making their loyalty to her very clear. Pearce just sighed inwardly, he hoped that they would know who was actually in charge of the team. Roberts team, on the other hand, were fascinated with their vehicle, taking in as many angles as possible. The R&D cadets were eager, but perhaps not practical. Hopefully their enthusiasm could be channelled into battlefield performance. The other teams were in varying states, some having gone so far as to get in their tanks. Russell team had even started theirs, and it would appear that their driver was eager. **  
**A clatter of gears alerted the captains to the movement of Russell's Cromwell, which lurched a couple of times before charging forward out of the garage, on a direct course to them. Nor did it appear as if it was stopping any time soon.

Chris was the first to react to the movement, the normally laid back man pushed Anna and Liam out of the way before leaping to the side himself. The other captains fled out of the path of the approaching tank, barring John, who had frozen to the spot. Pearce calmly grabbed his collar as he strode past, and half-threw, half-dragged the man out of the way of the Cromwell, a scant few seconds before the Cromwell thundered through the spot they had just occupied. The out of control vehicle continued on a straight path across the drill ground, despite repeated calls for the crew to stop their vehicle. The squeal of breaks and then a muffled thud alerted the captains to the fact that the driver had found the brakes of the Cromwell, but not in time to prevent a collision with the opposite garage. Fortunately, the metal doors of the shed were fairly solid, but there was still an evident dent in the silhouette of a Cromwell chassis imprinted on the surface. Pearce looked at Stephen with a gaze that made his blood run cold.

"Captain Hawke, I suggest you get your men under control, and soon, or I may need to find a new team," he said in a quiet, but steely tone.

Stephen gulped. He may have been almost a foot taller than his superior, and far more muscular, but that tone brooked no insubordination. He sprinted off with a muffled affirmative to see if his team was alright.

While Russell team were helped out of their vehicle by their captain, Pearce nodded to Chris. The taller lad whistled very loudly, getting the attention of the cadets. Deathly silence settled over the drill ground for nearly a minute. Pearce broke the silence.

"As our rather foolish teammates just demonstrated, a tank is a difficult machine to handle. It is not to be taken lightly, as Russell team just did. These machines were originally made to kill people," he said, emphasising the word kill, "and must be respected as such, whether you are driving it or not. I expect you to know these machines as well as your own families before we even think about putting in for practice. I do not want a repeat of this incident."

The cadets had lost much of their initial cheerfulness in the face of this sobering instance, and stood with neutral expressions facing their officers.

"However," added Pearce, "this is supposed to be a sport, no matter how much it resembles war. Of course we want to win, but you are supposed to enjoy the experience too. Ensuring we win is my job. Having fun is yours. Get acquainted with your tanks, and decide which roles you will be fulfilling based on who will be best at it. For example," he pointed to a shorter lad being helped down from the crashed Cromwell, "I doubt David will be getting a drivers post after that display of fine driving."

A small chuckle rippled through the ranks at the comment. Hart decided this was the best time to excuse himself.

"It seems you have everything solved here captain, so I will take my leave. You can find me..." he was cut off by Pearce.  
"Actually sir I would like it you would stay, unless you have other duties. Your advice would be most welcomed."  
Hart smiled. It was nice to be consulted.

**Zuikaku carrier – Oarai Academy**

As the tanks of Team 1 began to split apart in formation, Team 2 awaited the right moment to put their plan into action. Anteater team were patiently watching Mallard's B1 as it passed their position in the trees, while Hippo team watched the Porsche tiger and the M3 close slowly on the dead ground where they waited. Duck team stood proud on the ridge they had occupied since the battle began, poised for movement. While the battle had seen a lack of movement and action thus far, the air of tension in the air was palpable.

As soon as the Porsche Tiger reached the dead ground, the StuG sprang into action. Hippo team's Kwk 40 gun spoke, placing an accurate shot onto the front of the Tiger. Sadly, at the range it was at, the shot bounced off the thick front plating, but leaving a noticeable dent in the surface of the vehicle. The StuG reversed rapidly, aiming to draw the two tanks of team 1 away from their Mallard team allies. Shots from both the Tiger and the M3 whizzed past the front amour of the StuG as Oryou reversed the tank, weaving slightly as she did so. Reaching the lip of the dead ground, Oryou pivoted the tank elegantly and then slammed it into gear, letting the StuG race forwards.

"Commander, its working! They're chasing us!" exclaimed Saemonza.  
"Much like the Numidian cavalry of antiquity, we are drawing the enemy away from the main battle," added Caesar.  
"Remain focused, the enemy is still chasing us. We aren't a good decoy if we're eliminated," warned Erwin.

At the same time, the B1 was approaching the hill, and preparing for the climb to reach Duck team's position of the ridge. The B1, not known for its high speed, made steady progress towards the type 89, which had begun firing towards them, hoping to draw them in. Rounds pockmarked the ground as Mallard team slowly ground up the hill, the hull-mounted 75mm howitzer on the B1 occasionally responding in kind to Duck team's provocations. Sodoko was not utilising the gun on the turret, occupied as she was trying to guide the tank and use the radio. As the Char reached the slope, a flash of colour alerted to Sodoko to the presence of a new threat. A slow, imperceptible movement gave away the movement of Anteater team, as their type 3 emerged from the copse they had spent the entire battle in.

"Ambush!" she reported to Azusa, voice rising in urgency, "We have Anteater's chi-nu to our left side. What do you want us to do?"  
"Do what you need to keep going. Rabbit will move to support. Leopon, you stay on the StuG. We can do this in one-on-one fights, we have the more powerful tanks, so we can do this if we try," replied Azusa, bending slightly to speak to her crew.  
"Karina, turn us round. We need to rescue the ethics committee!"  
"Right!" came the response of the driver, stressed as always.

The M3 tilted as Karina whisked the tank in a tight circle, perhaps tighter than many would assume possible. The Tiger of Leopon team maintained their heading, firing as they did so. It seemed the StuG was heading for narrow paths through the trees to the northwest of the field, hoping to lose the heavier and slower vehicle in the thick foliage. Leopon continued their pursuit, not pushing their Tiger too hard for fear of aggravating the temperamental vehicle.

As the type 3 slowly made its way out of the trees, firing as it did so, the type 89b began making a descent from the crest of the hill. Isobe smiled. Hopefully they could take out the B1 before Team 1 rallied round to save them. Sodoko was not so impressed.

"Moyoko, reverse! We need to face the type 3, or we might take damage on our left side."  
"But Duck team will be on our right!" Moyoko replied.  
"Their gun is weaker than Anteater team, so it's better to face the more powerful opponent with our thickest armour. Nozomi, get the 75 mm loaded again, we need to take out that type 3 before we get caught between two tanks."

The B1, now on the slope, threw itself into reverse, bouncing down to the flat ground and slewing round to face the type 3, which had continued a steady advance towards them, firing as it went. Nozomi opened fire with the 75mm howitzer mounted in the hull of the Renault, gouging great divots into the earth before the Anteater team. Similar craters began to form around the B1 as Duck and Anteater teams returned the fire in kind. Some rounds bounced off the armour of each tank as Sodoko used the 47mm gun in the turret to try and prevent the movement of the type 89, which was still descending the hill, evidently aiming to get behind them.

"Let's give them a _dirt dessert_!" exclaimed Shinobu.  
"We just have to be careful, we can't afford to _shank_ it," replied Isobu. "Keep it on the strong side if you can, then we can get round the enemy and we can score."

**(A/N These bizarre expressions courtesy of team USA's official volleyball jargon PDF)  
**  
The smattering of volleyball related jargon aside, the type 89b roared down the hill, aiming to get round the right flank of the Renault. Akebi, the gunner, was maintaining a decent rate of fire on the Renault and scoring a few hits too. The downside was that few were scoring more than cosmetic damage, although a few scores and dents were visible on the armour of the B1. Similar scoring was visible along the front plate of the type 89b, although the situation was about to change rapidly. A shot from Sodoko slammed into the right track segment at the front of the type 89, rending apart the treads and leading it to slew violently left, leaving Duck team in the flank of the Renault, but immobile until repairs could be effected. Mallard team, finally having their first good fortune of the match, allowed themselves a brief moment of hope before returning to their positions. Despite the clear benefits to their shooting, the stationary nature of the B1 also meant that it was easy to target for both Duck and Anteater teams, proven a moment later when Akebi and Piyotan both smashed shots into the B1. A terrible rending sound alerted Mallard team to some damage.

"Sorry Sodoko, but it looks they put the howitzer out of action with that last shot," reported Nozomi.  
"Moyoko, put us in reverse! We need to get Duck team back into our front arc. Nozomi, help me with the turret, you can load," ordered Sodoko.

The B1 may have been a powerful vehicle, but the turret required the commander to load and fire the gun as well as order the tank about. An extra pair of hands could be useful now the other gun was out of commission. Battered, but not out the fight, the B1 reversed, putting both the stricken type 89 and the Chi-nu, now stationary at 300m distance, back into its front arc, making it less vulnerable to attack. Choosing to target the type 89 rather than the Chi-nu, Mallard team pounded round after 47mm round into the damaged tank, making it impossible for Duck team to repair their battered tank. The sound of rending metal filled the air, followed by a small pop as the white flag that displayed surrender sprang from the hatch it was concealed in to confirm that Duck team was in fact, out of operation. Had this been a match in the tournament, team 1 would have been celebrating wildly as they had nailed the enemy's commander, but this was a total elimination match, and as such, it was only one of three tanks down.

"We got Duck team, Miss Sawa," reported Sodoko, "but we're in a bad way here. That chi-nu is going to destroy us eventually."  
"Just hang on Sodoko, we'll be on location in soon," came the voice of Rabbit team's commander, politely ignoring the shouts that came back from Sodoko about her nickname.

Inside the now inoperable tank, a few groans gave away the shaken nature of the volleyball club; Mallard team had not been gentle with their gunnery. Isobu righted herself before getting the radio gear working.

"Looks like we're out of this one guys! Anteater, I want you to beat the Mallards. If our team doesn't have a _brain out_, we still have a chance! Erwin, the StuG's in command now," Isobu broadcast. "Roger!" responded Hippo team.  
"Ok," Anteater team acknowledged.

The volleyball club sat back in their tank to relax, gossiping about volleyball. Anteater team, on the other hand, was by no means as relaxed.

"Piyotan, try and hit the turret. We'll take this boss down easier if we hit their critical points, and then we can progress to the next opponent," ordered Nekota.  
"I'll try Nekota. Momoga, can you get us closer? We can pierce their armour better at short range, and hopefully critical hit their tank for a knockout."  
"All right then," replied Momoga, pushing the Chi-nu into a steady advance on the Renault.  
"They're weak on the left hand side Momoga, see if you can get round their flank. Those big exhaust grills are a huge target, like the soft underbelly of a dragon," advised Nekota.

In response to the attempts of the type 3 to close with them, Mallard began a steady retreat, firing as they went. Now that the tanks were moving again, even if only at average pace, the shots of both teams were far less accurate. However, the distance was closing between the vehicles, as the faster Chi-nu began to outpace the Renault, easily making ground up on the retreating tank. As the distance closed to 150m, Piyotan took careful aim. The B1 was firing as fast as it could, hoping to keep Anteater team at bay while reinforcements arrived. Anteater didn't give them that chance, as Piyotan's shot lanced into the front armour just below the 75mm gun mounted in the hull, bringing the tank to a shuddering halt, as the little white surrender flag popped out the top hatch.

"Looks like the gamer girls got us, Miss Sawa," reported a rather dazed Sodoko, slumped in the bottom of her vehicle with the rest of Mallard team.  
"Are any of you hurt?" asked Azusa, a hint of concern in her voice.  
"A few scratches, nothing more,"  
"I'm okay."  
"Me too."

Azusa cut off the radio net, and addressed her crew.

"Karina, get us there as fast as possible. Ayumi, Aya, Saki, get the guns ready. Maybe we can sneak up on them while they're still celebrating…."

Meanwhile, the chase that had been occurring between Leopon team and Hippo team had petered out slightly, as the slow and temperamental Porsche having trouble keeping up with the StuG, which had vanished into the woods in the North-west of the battlefield. The mechanics had pulled some of their usual magic, fixing the Porsche while moving, and cautiously entered the woods looking for their smaller opponents. Hippo team, having lost the enemy for the moment, were concentrating less on the pursuing enemy, and more on how to defeat the remaining tanks of team 1.

"I think we should link up with Anteater after leaving Leopon lost in these woods. If we move fast, it could be like the timely arrival of Longstreet at Antietam!" declared Erwin, "Oryou, get the Leopon team lost in these woods, and then get us rolling back to Anteater's position, at the double!"

The Sturmgeschütz roared off into the woods, beginning a tortuous and roundabout route back to the other remaining tank of team 2.

Sat on the ridge which they had occupied for the entire battle, Anglerfish team maintained a steady watch over the proceedings of the battle. Miho had been slowly analysing the movements of each team and the strategy behind each decision. Some of the leadership skills exhibited by both teams had been impressive. The switching of an ambush into a decoy operation by team 2 was a clever move, as was the isolation of the B1, but the lack of commitment to a close battle from the Chi-nu and the somewhat reckless assault of Duck team had meant that a tank had been lost when it could have perhaps been avoided. Similarly, the rash pursuit of the StuG by Rabbit and Leopon could have been cut shorter than it had been, allowing as it did the loss of Mallard. Overall, despite their flaws, each team was manoeuvring superbly and this had kept the attention of most of Anglerfish team, even Saori. It could not however be said that all of Anglerfish team was watching the match with rapt attention, because Mako was still asleep at the while.

Back on the battlefield, the other tank of team 2, the Chi-nu of Anteater team, had just regained their bearings following the protracted firefight that had just occurred. This was fortunate, because the report of a gun fewer than five seconds later heralded the arrival of Rabbit team. Sat atop the ridge on which the type 89 had been perched at the start of the battle, Rabbit team trained its guns on the Chi-nu, and let loose a volley of fire in their direction, trying to find range. Anteater team hurriedly pivoted their tank on the spot, and likewise aimed their 75mm gun back at the M3. The sloping terrain provided a slight challenge to aiming for the type 3, as a few degrees too high or low would cause the round to either fly over the M3 or claw out a great hole in the earth before the tank. A furious exchange of rounds ensued.

"Piyotan, remember we only have limited ammunition, so make sure to take your time and use them to best effect," advised Nekota.  
"I'm trying, Nekota," responded the beleaguered gunner.

Further rounds whistled between the M3 and the type 3, having little to no effect. Sick of waiting, the M3 began to close the distance, speeding down the slope to confront the Chi-nu at shorter range. The hull-mounted gun on Rabbit team's vehicle belched out rounds constantly, one of them shredding the track guards, leaving the right side of the vehicle exposed.  
"Karina, get us round their right side! We can smash their drive systems and take them out that way. Ayumi, Aya, aim for their tracks and we can finish this tank off!" ordered Azusa.

Turning to the wider strategic picture, Azusa sought out Leopon team.

"What's your current status, Leopon?"  
"I think we lost the StuG, commander. They're just too fast," replied Nakajima in an apologetic tone.  
"Keep your eyes open, they may have been sneaky and got past you. If you need, get out of the woods. We'll stand more chance if we go in together."

In response to the order, Nakajima popped her head out of the turret cupola. Barring the sound of the engine in the Porsche, the woods were quiet. The StuG was nowhere to be seen, and could have been anywhere, lying in wait like the predator it was. Against the Tiger, it was still weak, but ambushes could render the power of the Tiger useless, its vulnerable back armour exposed to the powerful 75mm L48 KwK 40 gun of the StuG. A similar, slightly less powerful, L43 gun had illustrated its lethal efficacy in the finals the previous term, mounted on Anglerfish's Panzer IV, as the team had wrecked the Henschel built Tiger of Maho Nishizumi. At 100m, it could even go straight through the front plate of the well-armoured Tiger tank, if it could get that close. Nakajima was not going to let that happen, and decided discretion was the better move.  
"I think the StuG has given us the slip. Tsuchiya, get us out of these woods, we'll rendezvous with Rabbit and then we can smoke Hippo team out of whatever corner they're hiding in."

The Porsche Tiger pivoted on the spot, its cumbersome chassis slowly swinging through a full 180 degrees, and then trundled out of the woods it had been pursuing the StuG through moments before. Reporting the situation to Rabbit team, Leopon began a steady progress back towards the centre of the field, and their erstwhile teammates. Suzuki was sat on the rear of the tank, using the opportunity afforded by the slow speed of the vehicle to fix yet another issue with the unreliable prototype. The vehicle, cruising along at 15mph, well under its maximum speed, slowly made its way towards Rabbit team, fully intent on linking up and ending the battle as soon as possible.

A similar idea was passing through the minds of Hippo team, which had swung east, nearing Miho's position, before heading south again, back into the centre ground which had seen so much battle already. Sat high in the turret cupola, Erwin surveyed the battlefield ahead, the muffled thumps that could be heard from a distance serving to illustrate the continuing battle up ahead, as Anteater and Rabbit teams clashed head on. The StuG could potentially notch up another kill or two in the coming battle. Erwin grinned at the thought.

**Dauntless - Wellesley Academy**

Each team now affiliated with their vehicles, and well aware of the need for responsibility, Pearce and Chris each headed to their respective teams. The captain's team consisted of four male and one female cadet, including the captain himself. If one assessed the team from a purely visual standpoint, it is unlikely that an observer would be impressed, seeing them clustered around the vehicle haphazardly. A tall boy with darkish brown hair, Andrew Roberts, turned to greet his commander as he approached.

"So when do I get to drive it?" he asked eagerly.  
"I never said you would be driving it, Andrew. That role is for Mr Nares, right Stephen?" responded Pearce, gesturing towards a blonde lad of average height and build.

The boy nodded, giving no verbal response.

"So where do I go? I better not be loading," whined Andrew.  
"Got it in one, Mr Roberts."  
"Aww, that's not fair!"  
"How good are you on the gun? Or maybe driving? Last I checked, you could barely hit a target with a rifle, so I am not trusting you with the 88mm of this fine machine," said Pearce, "Plus, the loader is integral to the team. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't believe you had the aptitude for it, and that's something not many people can say they have."

Andrew was dumbstruck. He looked like he would burst with pride given the expression he pulled not five seconds later, and this gave the opportunity for another person to speak. A petite girl, about 5'2", with brown shoulder length hair and soft features, addressed her captain.

"Sam, where am I going to be working?" she asked hesitantly.

Pearce turned and faced her, a rather more approachable expression on his face than his usual apathy. It was well known that of the few people he tolerated in his company, Jo Reid was one of the people he trusted implicitly.  
"Jo, you will be our radio operator and navigator," he said, before lowering his voice and leaning closer, "Plus, your company is appreciated, its cheers me up a little."

Jo looked surprised at the comment. It wasn't exactly an outpouring of emotion, but it was more than people usually got out of Pearce. She nodded and hopped up onto the vehicle. Pearce turned his attention to the last member of the team, perched lazily on the edge of the front armour plate. The final guy in the team, Liam Anderson, appeared to be half-asleep, his eyes lidded and weary. Medium height, with scraggly stubble and messy brown hair, Liam could probably have given Captain Taylor a run for his money in laziness.

"So I guess I'm gunning, Sam?" he drawled.  
"Can't fault your logic there, Liam. You've got a good eye, when they're open, and an understanding of how the guns will work that gives those R&D kids a challenge. So I want you on the 88mm of this Tiger tank. It's a superb weapon, so I needed someone who would use it properly."

Liam gave no response, instead getting up and vanishing inside the tank, evidently to laze around in his gunner's chair. Pearce shrugged. They may have been a misfit bunch, but they'd do.

Chris, on the other hand, had lazily wandered over to where his team was stationed, in front of their M10 Achilles. One of his crew was impatiently tapping their foot, a small blonde woman with short hair in a bob.

"We've been waiting ages! What happened, you fall asleep on the way here?" she hollered.  
"I was just taking my time, getting lost on the road of life, that sort of thing. You shouldn't get so pent up Amy, it's bad for ya," replied Chris cheekily. Amy made to throw the nearest object at him, but her hand was caught by a taller blonde girl before she could throw the wrench at her captain.  
"Amy, don't let him get to you. He should take his job more seriously, but it's no excuse to hit him. Plus, we need him to designate our positions before you do," she said.  
"But sis, he's an idiot! He's late to everything, and he always mocks me, calling me 'little Katie', even though I'm as tall as Captain Pearce!"  
"Ah, but Chris wouldn't call Sam little, mostly because he wouldn't get a response. Even if he did, it wouldn't be the verbal kind," the taller girl countered, turning her attention back to Chris "So, which roles are we taking in this tank?"  
"I'm glad you asked, Hannah," said Chris. "I think you might be our gunner, cos you're calm and collected, while your sister is our driver, I do think. Maybe she can translate some of this aggression to manoeuvring this tank destroyer of ours."

This was an understatement on Chris's part. It was almost impossible to really annoy Hannah Stuart, while it seemed unreasonably easy to wind her sister Amy up. Their reactions to what Chris had just said illustrating this perfectly. Hannah merely nodded, while Amy went ahead and hit Taylor with the wrench.

Now nursing a small headache thanks to Amy, Chris turned to the other two members of the team, one a boy of medium height, a mop of blonde hair on his head, who was completely absorbed in what appeared to be a video game, while the other was a girl of above average height, and was scowling at the boy disapprovingly, her eyes hidden behind her glasses. Chris first addressed the guy.

"James, I know you're trying to complete your full pokedex, but dude, we're on duty. You don't see me drinking while I work do you now?"  
"Sorry sir. It won't happen again Mr Taylor."  
"Eh? Chris'll do if you don't mind. I don't need calling sir. But yeah, I wanted to tell you that you're our new loader," Chris informed him.  
"Right! I'll get right on it, sir, I mean Chris," the boy replied, getting a tad flustered.  
As he scrambled into the Achilles, Chris turned to the other girl, who was fiddling with her ponytail, which kept her mass of red hair out of her eyes.  
"So, Olivia, can you guess what position you will be filling in our tank?" he asked cheekily.

She glared at him, as if daring him to carry on mocking, and without saying a word, went and manned the radio operator's position. Chris grinned. He picked a team that provide a load of amusement. He cast a sidelong glance at Clinton team, where 4 girls and one boy could be seen getting their vehicle prepped for motion, in a display of furious efficiency, directed by Katherine, their captain. Chris sighed.

"She'll never stop working too hard, will she?" as he sat down on the front of the tank, relaxing.

**Zuikaku Carrier - Oarai Academy**

The battle in the centre of the field was heating up even further now, the M3 having careened down the hill, trying to get round the flank of the Chi-nu. Nekota's team had responded to this by beginning to move too, and the tanks were now circling each other, trying to get an accurate shot into their foe, neither willing to stop and let their opponent hit a sitting target. Rabbit team was at somewhat of a disadvantage in this circling match, as their hull mounted cannon could not pivot far enough to hit the Chi-nu. Both commanders noticed this, Nekota making sure her tank stayed out of the fire arc, and Azusa trying to get the type 3 back into it. Deciding that enough was enough, Karina took the initiative, bringing the M3 to a crunching stop and pivoting very rapidly.

"Ayumi, take the shot!" she hollered.

The dark haired girl responded to this by firing off the 75mm gun towards Anteater team, to no effect. Seeing it miss, she slammed another round into the breech while the tank continued to pivot, and took careful aim.

As this was occurring, Piyotan was taking careful aim in the type 3. They were running out of ammunition slowly, having expended much of it in the furious fight with the Renault. Trying to compensate for the motion of the tank, she stared down her sights, trying to line up the shot.  
"It's not like the game, so I have to compensate for bullet dip," she murmured, not really addressing anyone.

Both gunners fired, almost simultaneously.

Neither one of them missed their mark. The degree of damage on the other hand, was one major difference. Piyotan's round had hammered into the M3, sheering away some of the drive systems. It wasn't enough to knock out or even immobilise the tank, but Rabbit team weren't going anywhere at a pace beyond a crawl. Ayumi, on the other hand, had put her round right into the join where the turret met the chassis. The small white surrender flag and small amount of smoke indicated the result of that piece of marksmanship.  
"Erwin, we got taken out! The enemy had too much DPS on our vehicle, but we ruined their speed stat, so they won't be able to evade you," reported Nekota over the radio.  
"That's not great news, but you did well. No one is KIA in your AFV, right?" asked Erwin.  
"We're all at full HP in here!" came the response of Anteater team.

In team 1, Rabbit team were in high spirits for a second, until Karina informed that the drive system was almost completely ruined. Pivoting at an agonising pace, Rabbit's Lee eventually faced the right way to rendezvous with Leopon, and the team began a slow, painful crawl towards their comrades.

"We've only got one more tank to get, right? That means we have a 2-1 advantage, not to mention the fact that Leopon's tank is bigger and stronger than Hippo's," said Aya, trying to reassure herself.  
"But we don't know where they are, they gave Leopon the slip, so they could be anywhere," countered Yuuki.  
"They'll come for us," said Saki, in her usual quiet tone. This ominous statement from the insightful girl did not reassure Rabbit team.

Nor should the statement have been reassuring. As Azusa rose up in the turret cupola, using the tall chassis of the M3 to best effect, she spotted an ominous shape of the horizon. It could certainly have been Leopon team, but unless the engineers had gotten radical with their modifications all of a sudden, the shape should have been somewhat larger, with a turret perched on top. Instead, a low, predatory shape was eating up the ground between themselves and Rabbit team. Bringing up a pair of binoculars, Azusa spotted a distinctive peaked hat and goggles peering out from the commander's seat. Definitely Hippo team, she thought, praying for the arrival of Leopon team before the StuG made it into effective range. Rabbit team attempted to increase the speed of their wounded mount, before a loud crunch told them that the drive system on the left had gone entirely. Defiantly wheeling around, the first year girls awaited the last stand that they inevitably would face.

"They've stopped dead, and much like Bibracte, the Romans now patiently await the onrushing Gauls!" declared Caesar.  
"Can you stop using analogies where we take the role of the losing party?" asked Saemonza.  
"I would compare it more to the battle of Arras, where the British tanks stopped and held the Germans, but only for a short while before they were routed back to Britain!"  
"It could also be the battle of Domyoji, where Mototsugu awaited reinforcements who were heavily delayed."

The usual themes of argument continued within the confines of the assault gun, each party forwarding a different arena of history as the most apt for comparison. As the tank closed the range to the enemy, Hippo team got ready for battle. Completely untouched by the fighting thus far, having been little more than a decoy, Hippo began a furious bombardment the minute they reached effective range. The M3 returned fire, both sides' guns echoing loudly across the open field, littered already with the smoking shells of three other vehicles, their crews tentatively watching the fierce duel as the StuG closed in. The immobility of the Lee meant that should Hippo team get round the flank of Rabbit team, they could virtually pick them off at will, and this is what Oryou was doing, driving the assault gun flat out in a bid to quickly pick off one of the remaining two tanks on team 1, before locating and confronting the Tiger.

As the ranges closed between both tanks, shots began to glance off both tanks, inflicting minor damage to their hulls. Needless to say, this did not stop the StuG. Diving down the left flank of the M3, and hence negating the power of their 75mm gun, Hippo team came to a halt, and took careful aim. Lining up the shot, one eye closed as usual, Saemonza prepared to fire into Rabbit team at point blank range. The loud report of a gun echoed across the valley, and when the crews observed closely, both the StuG and the M3 were out of action.

Needless to say, several people were stunned, chief amongst them the crew of Hippo team. Looking behind their vehicle, they saw, emerging from the dead ground in which they had spent the first phase of the battle, was the unmistakeable form of the Tiger P, its 88mm gun still smoking. Erwin gaped at the reversal of their original position, slamming her hand down on the turret cupola.

Practice was over.

**There you have it! Chapter 2 is now finished, and a followup is not going to be forthcoming for some time. I have exams, so I'll say that Chapter 3 will be up about 13 June, if not a little before. Hope you enjoy this latest offering.**


	3. Chapter 3: New Tankers!

**I know I said I would not be posting before about the 13****th**** of June because of my exams, but I had a little free time here and there. Here is chapter 3.**

**Zuikaku Carrier – Oarai Academy – 1600hrs - Monday 12/Jan**

The tankery team arrived back at the tank sheds, weary but in high spirits, following a close practice session. The tanks soon followed, having been retrieved from the battlefield. This included the Porsche Tiger, which no less than 2 minutes after finishing off the StuG, had had another breakdown. Leopon team had merely shrugged this off, claiming they would fix it later, and it was better that the tank breakdown outside of battle than in it. Somewhat tentatively, Miho stood at the front to debrief the teams on their practice session. Somewhat tentatively, she addressed the assembled ranks of students.

"I thought you all did really well today. There was a lot of tactical thought and some really good skills were showcased," Miho began, seeing a slight improvement in demeanour from the girls as they registered her praise.

"Firstly, your starting strategies were sound. Team 1, you realised the heavier nature of your vehicles and planned around it, while Team 2, you anticipated a forward dash and created a clever ambush. But as you all noticed, no plan ever survives contact with the enemy, so you had to rethink once it did not go exactly as you wanted. Hippo team, for example, changed from an ambusher to a decoy role, leaving Mallard team exposed when Leopon and Rabbit chased them, which was an excellent idea."

Seeing Hippo team swell with pride at the comment, Miho went on to puncture their rising egos.

"However, by drawing out the M3 and the Tiger with the StuG, it left the most powerful gun in your arsenal exposed and incapable of returning fire, as the Assault III does not possess a turret. Had Leopon and Rabbit stopped to fire, or even been a little luckier, Hippo would have been knocked out far sooner. Leopon and Rabbit's pursuit could have been far less zealous, but the fact remains that it removed Team 2's foremost weapon for most of the battle."

Hippo team's slowly spreading grins stopped their relentless advance, and beat a hasty retreat into an expression of composure. Miho turned her gaze onto a different team.

"Mallard team, you followed orders, thought well on the spot, and bogged down two of the enemy's force in a battle of attrition. Plus, you took out the enemy commander, which would have severed their chain of command, and this is something which all of you should pay attention to. Beyond assurances of safety and good luck, you cannot continue with tactical talk once your vehicle is out of commission. Isobe, you did this at one point, and it won't go down well if we do it in a real match. Ducks, your rush may have helped the Chi-Nu take down the B1, but you were in command. Sometimes the best decision is not to engage if you have a pivotal role in the team. This goes for you too, Rabbit team."

Seeing no further criticism was needed, Miho decided to wrap things up.

"I was really impressed today. If we perform like this in the tournament, and try our best, we should be have another shot at winning it. Practice is over for today, so I'll see you tomorrow," she finished.

The assembled teams dispersed, splitting off and going their separate ways. The volleyball club, as per usual, headed towards the gym halls, while Mallard team walked back towards the main building, evidently to do whatever the Ethics committee did. The other teams split into smaller groups, evidently heading home. Anglerfish team, however, remained where they were, and looked expectantly at Miho.

"I'm going to go see if the student council have managed to get any equipment or new tanks for our team," she said.

"Well then, we're coming with you, Miporin," replied Saori.

"I'm interested to see what they secured. Maybe they got enough funding for a new tank!" exclaimed Yukari, excitedly anticipating the addition of new armour to the team.

The group of girls made their way back inside the main school building, which barring some of the many interchangeable hall monitor girls, was virtually empty. A short walk later and they reached the office of the student council, and entered to find the usual scene. Anzu was relaxing at her desk eating dried sweet potatoes, Yuzu was doing the paperwork, and Momo was standing there reading some documents.

"So, how did the team do?" asked Anzu, lazily munching at her snack.

"They aren't out of practice, definitely, and there's always room for improvement, but if we try our best, we have a chance at doing really well this term. Err, did you happen to get anything out of the headmaster?" queried Miho.

"The headmaster has refused to grant a large amount of funds towards the tankery club. He wants to see if we can perform again this term with the vehicles we have before he deems it a worthy investment. Nevertheless, he has allocated some funds towards the club for modifications to our existing roster," stated Momo, handing the documents she was holding to Miho, who scanned the contents.

"These funds aren't much, but we can get some guns in to mod some of the weaker tanks in our roster. Yukari, what are the possibilities with the weaker vehicles for non-standard modding?"

Yukari looked both excited, and a little mortified at the question, the prospect of modding vehicles to non-standard specs being a little disconcerting for her.

"Well, we already have the 37mm we took off the 38(t), so we could mount that in the turret of the type 89, and that should effectively double the armour penetration, with composite rigid rounds we can get a good 60mm off it at close range. I mean, we would be crossing two different nations' tanks, but it should be doable, and I know the mechanics would love to have a try. For some of our other weaker tanks, we could bring in other guns to complement them. In the B1, we could replace the 47mm they have with the Skoda vz.36, it's the same calibre, so it shouldn't overtax the tank, and it has slightly better AP. Similarly, we could put the type 5 75mm that Japan made towards the end of the war in the Chi-Nu. I know it works; the Japanese made a variant tank called the Chi-nu Kai, and the 75mm gun is pretty good against medium tanks. The M3 could perhaps get a 76mm into its hull mount, but the traverse will be a little worse, and the ammo will take up more space, so you'll have less of it. Those mods should make us more competitive in the competition by quite a factor," Yukari rattled off this fearsome list from her vast knowledge of tanks, looking a little embarrassed when she finished, having gotten really engrossed in her spiel.

Yuzu had ferociously noted down these modifications at a rapid pace, and passed the completed list to Momo.

"Well, I think we have enough to go on. We'll try to get these mods sorted before the tourney starts," said Momo, "I'll contact the mechanics and get them on that type 89 mod soon."

"Don't forget, we'll have the list of personnel and competitors appearing for those new academies soon, as well as the dates of any friendlies, and then the tournament draw itself," added Anzu, waving lazily as Anglerfish team made their way out of the office.

**Carrier Dauntless, Wellesley Academy – the next day – 0900hrs – Tuesday 13/01**

Hart looked out over the assembled ranks of his cadets on the drill ground. To his right, Pearce stood, immaculate in his uniform and implacable in his expression. The cadets were now ranked up by team, each commander at the head of their group, and each group distinctive in their style and demeanour. Hart had given them permission to dress down a little, so as to be comfortable while tanking, essentially giving formal acceptance to the quirks of some of the cadets, Pearce included. The captain was, as ever, swathed in a long military style coat, the black leather coat complimenting his attire. On his lapels was pinned a small Iron Cross, and round his neck, a pair of binoculars.

Other students were also dressed in a non-standard manner. The R&D cadets, much like their captain, were wearing lab coats over their uniforms, soot stains on some displaying some perhaps over-zealous experiments. Russell team had taken to combat gear, still in the colour scheme of the academy, but far more loose and comfortable, as well as a blue beret to top it off, with the school's cap badge proudly displayed. One of the Churchill crews, Allenby team, were wearing a badge on their lapels, much like Pearce, but when Hart squinted, he realised it was a Maltese cross mounted on a shield. The other Churchill crew had not augmented their uniform, but Wavell team were all carrying identical books for some reason. The engineers were now in blue overalls, having discarded their neat pioneer uniforms in anticipation of getting a little bit messy on the job. Elliot in particular looked like he had been at it already, a few oil stains and a wrench indicating that he may have been working after class.

The cadet who most stood out was Christopher Taylor, not least because he was stood at the front of his team. He still maintained his Japanese hat, but he also seemed to be carrying a katana, evidently 'borrowed' from the sparring halls. Hart was about to question him on it, when Pearce pointed at Chris suddenly.

"Christopher, we are not a cavalry brigade. You are captaining the crew of a tank destroyer, and as such I don't think a blade will be particularly useful. Put it back in the sparring halls please, or the instructors might come looking for it," Pearce requested, the courteousness of the statement doing nothing to hide the order behind it.

Chris shrugged, and began to break out line, before Pearce's voice stopped him.

"Don't do it now, we have practice to get to. The instructors won't miss one blade. Put it back later."

A broad smile came to Chris's face.

"Yes Sir!"

Hart cleared his throat to get the attention of the group again.

"Since you got acquainted with your tanks yesterday, I hope you feel ready to drive them, because today, practice is going to begin in earnest. Our academy, in light of this team's lack of experience, has decided that we should have a friendly against another team before the tournament begins. Apparently, the other military academies are thinking along the same lines, so we will be taking on Kutusov academy in a week's time."

Hart paused, observing his cadets for any visible reaction. Casting his mind back to the plan he had created an hour before for the lesson, he began to outline the day's practice.

"Since we are mostly new to tankery, I thought it would be best to ease our way into the sport by going through practice drills, rather than fighting mock battles straight away. So, we'll start with some simple distance exercises to get the drivers used to rough terrain, some target practice to get the gunners going, and some speed gunnery to make sure the loaders get some experience. Through all this, I will be monitoring radio communications within the vehicles to check that the commander and radio op are doing their jobs. Then tomorrow, we'll be combining drills, and then we'll have a mock battle on Thursday, before repairs and light training on Friday. Ready?"

"Yes, sir!" came the immediate response.

"Good! Cadets, mount up!"

The cadets each broke ranks and headed to their respective vehicles. Hart cast his eyes across the vehicles, seeing that each was fully fixed and prepared, including the crashed Cromwell and the damaged Churchill. At least Hart knew what Elliot was up to earlier to have such stains on his uniform. The boy must have pulled an all-nighter just getting the tanks ready. The vehicles themselves looked a motley collection, primarily due to their differing paint schemes. The Churchill tanks, Cromwells and the Comet all possessed a matt green paintjob, whilst the M10 Achilles was furnished with dark blue paint. The M24 Chaffee was in a winter pattern colour scheme, and the Tiger 131 was in a desert colour palette. Hart noted that it might be wise to match colours before fielding them in battle.

The sound of engines growling into life echoed around the courtyard, whilst the smell of petrol began to pervade the very air around Hart. A low rumble identified the rumble of the Tiger as it eased its way out of the garage and began movement towards the practice area. Further grumbles denoted the steady progress of the other vehicles they followed Pearce's lead. Evidently impatient, or just trying to show off, the M24 under Clark, and the M10 Achilles with Taylor overtook their compatriots and headed off into the rough terrain that awaited them. Hart headed over to another smaller garage, opening it and starting up the Willys jeep inside it. Tuning into the communications networks for the tanks, he set off in pursuit.

The vehicles assembled about half a mile into the wilderness zone in a haphazard skirmish pattern. Hart's jeep gingerly weaved between them and slewed around in front of the vehicles. Across the radio net, he outlined the first test: driving.

"This combat zone contains numerous features which will test your vehicles. I want everyone to attempt at least one circuit of the zone, taking whichever route you choose, just be careful of your vehicle's performance, because the idiosyncrasies of your tank will determine which route you can choose. I will monitor your progress while you do so. Start when you feel ready."

The first vehicle to charge off into the woods was the Cromwell of Russell team, roaring off at a terrifying speed into the imposing terrain. They were followed by the M24 Chaffee, a grim faced Clark at the helm, the M10, where Taylor almost looked asleep in his turret, and the Comet of the engineering crew. The other tanks were slightly more circumspect in their approaches, taking care as they moved out.

"Try to maintain a good constant speed Stephen, a balance of control and alacrity will yield dividends in rough terrain," advised Pearce, as the Tiger grumbled into the woods, its imposing bulk dominating most of the track, "I want to take us into the terrain at some point, sticking to the path will not be helpful in a match. Also, we need to work on manoeuvring at speeds, so when we have the opportunity we can move quickly."

"Sir," came the one-word response of the driver.

In stark contrast to the measured control of Montgomery team, Russell team was aiming to take the most direct route through the terrain, at the highest speed possible, so they could showcase their skills. A new lad, Kieran, was at the helm, and was a far more competent driver, but the team's strategy effectively rendered that moot. Careening off the path and into the forest, where they had effectively no vision, they crashed through a copse of trees, and straight into a pool of mud, where the tank stuck fast. Hawke swore and bashed his fist on the interior of the Cromwell, he knew Pearce would be less than happy to know what they had done this time.

"Right lads, want to see if we can shift 28 tonnes of tank?" he asked.

Managing a furious, if slightly more controlled pace, was the M10 Achilles. Amy, hot-headed as usual, wanted to prove just how good a driver she was, and had the tank destroyer rattling through the woods at a terrifying speed. Despite this, her captain appeared to be asleep, slouched back in his chair, hat tilted over his eyes. He still had the katana that Pearce had called him out for, propped up just behind him. Listening over his radio, Hart could hear little in the way of conversation on the tank's internal comms other than muttered expletives as Amy repeatedly corrected their course.

Another fast moving tank, the Comet, driven by the engineering team, was powering around the practice grounds with little difficulty. Elliot, sat up in his tank cupola now that they had cleared the woods for some more open ground, was pointing at differing terrains and offering routes to his driver, Isaac, reminding him of the capabilities of the vehicle. The rest of the tank's crew were having an animated discussion, anticipating which vehicles would be wrecked by their crews. None of them bet against Russell team being back in the garage for repairs this evening.

Still in the woods, and manoeuvring steadily through the trees, was the M24 Chaffee of Campbell team. Unlike the friendly banter going on within the Comet, there was strict radio silence within the light tank, save for the barked instructions of their commander, fully determined to prove her competence and superiority over the team captain. The Chaffee, going flat out, and strictly controlled, set a fast pace in pursuit of the engineers.

The Tiger was making good time despite its size. Stephen seemed to be able to move the heavy tank across all the terrains demanded of it, with a grace and ease expected more from a tank half its weight. Pearce had slowly begun to reduce the amount of advice he was giving to his driver, and instead let Jo take over the course correction so she could hone her map reading skills. He paused to wake Liam up, slouched as the boy was in his gunner's seat, before returning to planning for the confrontation with Kutusov.

**1100hrs**

Hart regrouped his cadets and their vehicles in the same clearing they had started the practice session in. Needless to say, he had not been surprised at how each team had performed in a variety of terrains. Those who had been the slowest were Allenby and Marlborough teams, although this was unsurprising given the tanks they were possessed of, the Churchill hardly being known for its speed. Roberts and Clinton teams had manoeuvred well, and communicated superbly, perhaps testament to their groups' cohesion. Russell team still looked a bit sheepish, due to requiring the rescue of their vehicle less than thirty minutes after the start of the session. Though Kieran had shown some driving talent, the gung-ho style of the sporty cadets did not bode well.

Aside from this, Hart was impressed. Each team had grasped the controls of their vehicle fairly quickly, and in their own styles, formed a group cohesion that could keep their vehicle running. Now to test their gunnery.

Gesturing towards a clearing in the eastern quadrant of the practice area, Hart outlined the next session.

"To get loaders and gunners used to their weaponry, you will start this exercise in a stationary position 1km away from your targets, and deliver ten rapid rounds at the target. We want speed and accuracy here, not just one or the other. You only carry finite ammunition in a battle, so it's better to take an extra second aiming and score an accurate hit than to fire fast and miss all the time. However, you can't take all day to aim, because the enemy is trying to hit you back. Then, you will be practicing firing on the move, which will require the drivers to maintain a stable yet speedy firing platform under the gunner, and the gunner to compensate for movement. Is that understood?"

A chorus of affirmatives greeted Hart, as Wellesley's team headed for the practice range. Lined up facing their individual targets, they laid down a fierce barrage at the marked targets, little more than mounds of dirt with boards laid over them. The two Churchill tanks, occupying one end of the line loaded and fired their 75mm guns at a rather steady pace, their captains not urging their gunners to work too hard. In fact, the captain of Allenby team, Liam, was sat up in his tank cupola reading. Pausing to watch one of his team's shots miss, he leaned back inside, and spoke to the crew.

"We become wiser by adversity, said Seneca. Just keep trying, and I'm sure you'll hit next time."

Allenby team, who had all been looking at their commander for a second, nodded and redoubled their efforts.

Next in the line was the Cromwell tank of Clinton team, whose commander had evidently infused some of her work ethic into her crew, as the vehicle threw out shot after shot, clipping the target frequently. The rounds weren't dead on the mark, but it was impressive accuracy for a kilometre distance shot, and the rate of reload was impressive. Seeing the hard work of Clinton team from his own adjacent tank, Chris sighed. The Achilles's large gun had only fired a few rounds thus far, and Hannah had missed or just clipped the target several times. She didn't say much, but Chris could tell she was getting frustrated.

"You're overcompensating every time you miss," he advised, "You only need to make small adjustments."

Hannah gave a small nod to indicate understanding, while her sister turned round in her driver's seat to shout at her captain.

"Well if it's so bloody easy, why don't you do it?"

"Nah, I'm not really feeling it at the moment," Chris replied, reclining in his seat.

Hannah slightly altered her gun sights, while James slammed another shell into the breech. The next shot, while not perfect, slammed into the target cleanly. Hannah had found her aim.

A tank that hadn't found its aim was the Cromwell of Roberts team. The scientists had lined up one shot, taken it, and then convened to account for ballistics to make sure the second shot was on target. Hart had resisted the urge to bang his head on the facia on the jeep when he had tapped into their radio net. At least, he thought, if they become more proficient at doing the calculations, their accuracy would be terrifying.

Being a tad more practical than their scientific comrades, the engineering team in Hobart's Comet were scoring a few hits. Their understanding of their own vehicle contributed hugely to their performance, and as a result they maintained a decent speed of reload, with a high percentage accuracy. This certainly did bode well for the future, especially with more practice.

Certainly, one team that could use more practice was Russell team. Despite their setback earlier, they still seemed determined to one-up everyone on the team, and as a result had tried to fire of all their rounds incredibly quickly. Certainly, they managed that easily enough, but with only 2/10 on the mark, they needed a lesson in restraint. Tanks only carried a finite number of shells, and with no resupply trucks, Russell team would have now been redundant on the field.

Sat between Russell team and the ominous bulk of Montgomery team's Tiger, the diminutive M24 Chaffee had similarly expended their rounds, but had carefully laid their gunnery beforehand, and taken time to readjust their gun after each shot. As a result, they had a respectable total of hits, but their accuracy still was average at best.

Finally, firing carefully placed and spaced shots, the Tiger occupied the end of the line. The 88mm gun fired comparatively slowly, but their gunnery was superb. Liam had lined his gun sights up with perfect precision and repeatedly placed those shots into his own target. Pearce, sat high in the turret, observed the firing of each round with an impassive visage. Rate of fire could be worked on, and his loader and gunner were cooperating, although Liam could be more energetic. He had nothing to correct his crew on, so settled back to watch their performance.

**1630hrs**

Hart had put the teams through additional paces, such as firing on the move and camouflage drills, which the cadets had taken to quickly. There were some rough edges, but as he assembled them outside the garages, where their vehicles were now parked, he reckoned they had done well for one day's full practice.

"I'm quite proud of how you have performed today, you're showing some real progress. There's obviously some rough edges, but with practice we can get them overcome. So, class dismissed."

He let the teams leave, each returning to their appointed dorms on the carrier. Some of the teams drifted away in groups, Hobart team remaining to do some engineering work. Hart watched as Taylor, Reid and Armstrong asked Pearce if he wanted to have some dinner with them, but he politely declined. Instead, once they had left, Pearce came over to Hart.

"Sir, do you happen to have a map of the area we will be taking on Kutusov in?" he enquired.

"I might do. It should be in my office if it is, come with me and we'll go get it."

The pair strolled into the main staff building on campus after a short walk. Hart was a little uncomfortable with the silence, but a swift glance at Pearce showed that he wasn't in a talkative mood. Come to think of it, he never really saw Pearce in a very talkative mood. Regardless, he decided to break the silence with a fairly mundane question.

"Which college are you in in the academy?" he asked.

Wellesley academy, being a military institution, was a smaller carrier, almost without a civilian population. The students were split into a collegiate system, comprised of six different colleges each named after noble titles, with each assigned different quadrants of residence instead.

"Emperor," came the short response from Pearce.

"That college is the rearmost one on the carrier isn't it?"

"It is. Quite quiet as well."

"Do you like the peace and quiet?" asked John, hoping to coax more out of the cadet.

"It's preferable to noisier dorms. I would not want to live with Russell team in Duke."

Hart considered this for a second, arriving at his door and fumbling around for his key.

"Why? Do you enjoy reading, drawing, other more solitary activities?" queried Hart, hoping to learn something about his student.

"I like a good book, sir," replied Pearce, clearly heralding the end of the conversation.

Fortunately for Hart, he had reached his desk and began to search through his top drawer, locating a small file labelled 'tankery venues'. He searched through until he pulled out a canvas map. Handing it to Pearce, he dismissed him quickly, not much closer to knowing anything about Pearce.

**1645hrs**

Pearce opened the front door to his quarters, removing his jacket after he passed the threshold. In part of the quietest block, and one of the few self-catered students, Pearce's rooms were of a moderately large size. Three rooms, a kitchen, bathroom and a bedroom all connected onto a small central area with a television. The rooms were spotless, although the Spartan nature of the central area was kept belied the lack of guests visiting. The bedroom, on the other hand, was more homely. A computer was tucked into the corner near his desk, and a shelf of books sat above a collection of militaria, ranging from medals to hats. A small rack adjacent to this mounted a shortsword, above which sat another shelf, full of CDs. In the final corner sat a large case, evidently denoting a musical instrument.

Having removed his boots after entry, Pearce took the map Hart had given him and placed it on his desk. He had just sat down when he heard a knock at the door. Pearce stood up, giving a small sigh, and opened the door to Chris.

"Yes?"

"I knew you'd be here. Come on, man, you have to relax at some point. What are you doing, planning for the match? That can wait, the match is in a week right, and it's only a friendly. Why don't you come for a drink with me, Jo and some of the others?"

"We are winning that match, Chris, and I intend to make sure our plan is perfect. Drinking is not conducive to that result," Sam replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

"You're too serious. Look, I know you don't like to be open to people because of what happened before, but we care about you man, and I don't like to see ya sat all alone all the time."

Pearce actually had the grace to look even a little touched.

"Maybe another evening, Chris."

"I'll hold you to that man. Have a nice evening, and don't work too hard," said Chris, backing out of the door and waving a lazy goodbye.

"You too," said Pearce, shutting the door and returning to his desk.

Pearce glanced over to a picture sat on his shelf, just in front of his books. It depicted two smiling twelve year-olds in front of a museum, one clearly Pearce, the other a girl. Pearce was wearing quite a distinctive hat on his head as he stood there, a huge grin on his face.

"I'll crush you, much like you crushed me," he muttered, lying the picture down and returning to his work.

**End Chapter**

**Character Highlight: John Hart.**

A 28 year old instructor in theoretical warfare at Wellesley academy, John is considered a prodigy by many. He is however, a pure theoretician and as a result has no field experience, something which some veteran staff consider to be a handicap. Of moderate height, lean and highly nervous, John is a somewhat strange instructor for the Tankery team, but he tries his best. The tacit support, or at least acknowledgement of both the Academy's headmaster and the team captain has bestowed some confidence on John, and he is determined to get the best out of his pupils.

**Wellesley Academy – Spotlight**

Wellesley Royal Military Academy is a British institution which caters to the military training of cadets from the ages of 16 to graduate level. This will be the first year Wellesley and its three counterparts from other nations compete in the 'high school' tier of Tankery, although it competes beyond that level already. The school and mixed gender and more militarised than St Gloriana, another British style school, having virtually no civilian population on board its carrier, _Dauntless._ The school is immensely patriotic and promotes respect, but not always fair play in pursuit of victory. The academy is split into 6 colleges: Emperor, Prince, King, Duke, Baron and Knight, which vary in accommodation and students. There isn't much difference between them barring what part of the carrier they are assigned to, and the type of student may vary from college to college. Emperor, for instance, is the quiet college, whilst Duke is the sportier one. Wellesley teaches an array of subjects including the standard curriculum but also branches out into martial arts, weapons handling, military theory and other such militaristic courses.

Academy motto: "Si vis Pacem, para Bellum" – If you wish for peace, prepare for war

Academy anthem: Milanollo march

**Here you are! Another chapter completed, and another step closer to actual battle. I hope you are getting on board with my characters, and I'm starting to do highlights on some of them so you get a little more about who they are and what I've added in. I appreciate a nice constructive review now and then as well. See ya next time!**


	4. Chapter 4: Senior Sportsmen

**So I took up World of Tanks – bad move. Spend most of my time raging at why they put tier 3 light tanks into tier 5 games. Note that a KV-1 will not be hurt by a 38t, no matter how much GUP can contest it.**

**One of the reviews I received for last chapter asked me to clarify why my cadets were drinking. Well, in Britain, where both I and the academy are from, the legal age for consuming alcohol is 18yrs of age. Pearce, and the majority of his fellow cadets are of this age. I know some people might think this fic is progressing slowly, but I think I need to develop my characters a little before I throw them into the tournament, as well as give them some practice in their vehicles. One other point that was made was that I seem to use captain for both Pearce and Hart. Pearce is the team captain, and Hart is an actual captain, so it might happen. Blame military terms and a lack of distinction.**

**Anyway, here is my next chapter. Enjoy.**

**14 Jan – Wednesday – Carrier Dauntless, Wellesley Academy – 0900hrs**

The third day of practice was overcast and somewhat dull, with a chance of rain later in the day and a biting wind sweeping the deck plating. This denoted that Wellesley academy was docked in its home port, having arrived late last night, and Britain's typical weather was beginning to get to them. Some of the cadets had coats on over their uniforms to keep the cold out, and their instructor had done the same, donning a waterproofed coat with the academy crest over his heart. Pearce had augmented his gear with a pair of black leather gloves. As Hart took his place in front of the formation of students, a collective crash of boots slamming together signalled the students coming to attention, each ramrod straight with arms by their sides.

"Good morning students," greeted Hart, receiving a chorus of greetings in return.

"Since yesterday was to get you acquainted with basic functions of the vehicles, today is to introduce the actual skills of tanking to you. I gave you a series of set ranged targets yesterday to practice firing and reloading, but today we are upping the ante. You will have to contend with both fixed and moving targets, which will return fire on you should you miss or be too exposed. These targets are none other than our senior students, who have graciously volunteered to help today, as they are back from shore leave."

Hart gestured towards the sheds marked as used by the seniors, some of which opened slowly to reveal some of the academy's senior team, each garage no longer empty. Three Churchill MkVII tanks, two Sherman fireflies, four Cromwell tanks and a lone Centurion Mk1 occupied the sheds. A tall black haired boy emerged from the shed containing the Centurion, evidently the team leader for the seniors, and strolled over to Hart.

"Some of you may be well acquainted with James Agnew, our captain amongst the seniors. I contacted him for advice on setting up practice drills and he kindly offered to assist us in training you guys up for the league. My counterpart instructor, Major William Thomas, will be returning this afternoon and may join us as well. I'll let James fill you in on this drill," Hart finished.

The 21yr old senior surveyed the assembled cadets with a critical eye.

"Today, as Captain Hart has said, will test your ability to manoeuvre, take accurate shots and hit moving targets. Basically, our tanks will disperse across the combat zone and act as sentries, so we won't be hunting you directly, but will be patrolling the entire practice area, some sat still and some following prescribed routes. Your job is to take our vehicles out, or avoid being taken out. If you want to take away a lesson form this drill, I advise you not to hide for its duration or you will learn next to nothing. We will do this drill several times today, interspersed with standard target practice, which will help build your range-finding ability. So, if you'll give us 20 minutes to set up, and Captain Hart sends you in at 0930, we can get this underway."

The slightly broad accent of the senior gave away his origins in the north of England, his brusque tones carrying to all the assembled cadets.

"That should do nicely, James. We'll see you in the combat zone," said Hart.

Agnew nodded, and jogged back to his vehicles, barking orders to his crews as he did so. Pearce picked up something about 'schooling these rookies', and determined to ensure he succeeded in this drill. Being belittled by Agnew was not something that Pearce found amusing, and the arrogant senior needed to learn that.

Hart did a quick assessment of each vehicle in both teams. The senior team possessed the Mk1 Centurion tank, a fearsome tank that was only just finished before VE-Day. A design for a 'universal' tank, the Centurion possessed fearsome armour on its turret, 152mm thick, although its hull was somewhat less threatening at 76mm on the front, although heavily sloped, and 38mm on the sides and rear. The Mk1 also had a 17 pounder gun as its primary weapon, a fearsome weapon often given to tank destroyers. While not necessarily as fast as most tanks, as it was the primary incarnation of the vehicle, the Centurion was a dangerous foe. Both teams possessed A27M Cromwell tanks of the MkV category, equipped with welded hulls and a 75mm gun. The armour, roughly equivalent to a Sherman's in thickness, but unsloped, was 76mm on the front, but applique plates could be welded onto the hull if necessary, which could be later gambit for the Wellesley cadets. A powerful medium tank, the Cromwell sat low to the ground, and its Meteor engine gave it a dangerous speed, so much so that the gearbox had to be toned back to prevent suspension damage. They would be the mainstay of Wellesley's forces. The upgrade to the Cromwell, the Comet, was driven by Hobart team, and although slightly slower, it carried a 77mm HV (High Velocity) gun and similar armour to the Cromwell, yet sloped.

The Churchill MkVII provided the armoured 'heavy corps' of the Wellesley brigade. At 152mm thick on the front, and 95mm on the sides and turret rear, the armour plate on the cumbersome Churchill tank was fearsome, supplemented by a 75mm gun. For firepower, the senior team possessed the Sherman Firefly. A British modified tank, which mounted a 17 pounder gun in the chassis of the original American Sherman, the tank possessed fearsome firepower, although the blinding flash and recoil of the main gun earned the tank its nickname by blinding the crew every time it fired. A sloped 76mm glacis plate protected the front armour, but otherwise the tank was average in speed and manoeuvrability. It fulfilled the role of sniper in the tank team. For the junior team, the M10 Achilles was the sniper, using the same gun as the Firefly. With only 57mm of frontal armour, the Achilles was vulnerable, but it was possessed of a good turn of speed and rapid manoeuvrability, allowing it to escape dangerous situations swiftly. The junior team also possessed an M24 Chaffee, which would be useful as a scout, but still possessed the firepower of a Sherman with a 75mm gun. It had to rely on its speed to survive fire, with only 38mm maximum armour.

Hart's attention finally swivelled to the final tank available to his teams, the Tiger 131. A towering behemoth, although admittedly not the largest or most powerful tank fielded in the war, the Tiger was a fearsome sight. Capable of 45km/h, despite weighing 54 tonnes, the Tiger had a fair turn of speed. The 88mm in the front of the tank was a precision weapon capable of wrecking a Sherman at a 2km range, while the tank itself possessed a 100mm thick front plate of maraging steel, which while not sloped, could stop all but the most powerful of munitions dead. Sadly, the Tiger was a complex beast and required regular maintenance to keep running, although it seemed that this would not be an issue with the engineers present. The instructor had to conclude that the variety and number of vehicles available to Wellesley was superb, although being a military academy and having a senior team certainly helped in that regard.

By this point the senior team had moved their tanks, and so the junior cadets each headed to their vehicles, checking them over quickly to ensure full functionality, and calling over Elliot if they found any faults. Settling into his commander's chair, Pearce reached for his transmitter. Clipping it on, he quickly assembled all of the other teams onto the same wavelength so they could communicate.

"Our instructor laid out this exercise as a survival mission against the seniors, each tank for themselves. However, he did not explicitly forbid cooperation between teams. I think that may have been deliberate. If we consider that even set to fixed routes and responses, the seniors will be communicating between each other, and we could find ourselves picked off individually. I for one want to beat them, even if it is only a small victory."

"Where are you going with this Pearce?" came the irritated voice of Clark through the radio.

"We should work together. Better to fight coordinated than divided."

"I'm guessing that would be coordinated under your command? I'll take my chances," replied Clark, before cutting the radio contact.

"Anyone else not happy with me leading?" queried Pearce calmly.

"No issues here," said Elliot.

"Lead on, Sam," responded Chris in his usual drawl.

The other teams also affirmed their willingness to cooperate, Russell team a little begrudgingly. They evidently thought teamwork reduced the potential for glory.

"Superb," radioed Pearce, "We'll split into two tank teams, Wavell and Russell, Montgomery and Clinton, Hobart and Allenby, and Marlborough and Roberts. Taylor, Rowley, Armstrong and Jones will be commanding each of these teams. If we sweep areas together, have more chance of knocking each tank out. Watch out for the Centurion though, that tank has a 17 pounder gun and over 100mm of armour. You'll either need to be in close or leave it to the Tiger, Comet or Achilles. Ready?"

As each tank team voiced their approval, Hart smiled. Sat in the jeep he had used the previous day, he was listening in on the communications of each team. At least Pearce had picked up on that deliberate loophole in the rules, and the team's willingness to follow orders, barring Clark, promised potential for the upcoming matches.

Once the seniors were in place, Hart signalled for the tanks to roll into the practice area. The Chaffee disappeared into the woods first, while each team pair spread out so as to cover the practice zone. Heading into the practice area from the west gate, Wavell and Russell team took the extreme north, Montgomery and Clinton south of them, with Hobart and Allenby adjacent to them, and Marlborough and Roberts covering the right flank. The aim was to sweep west to east, encountering and destroying the patrols one by one. Pearce had no doubt that when the seniors lost several tanks in quick succession they would turn this drill into a practice match, retaliating with full force. Pearce had observed that Agnew had the general air of a man who did not take defeat well about him, so dismantling his drill and then destroying his team would be enjoyable, as well as taking his ego down a peg or two. It would obviously have the double effect of boosting his own reputation as well, but Pearce was more concerned by the morale of his team. If they won, even in an asymmetrical situation, it would give them a confidence boost for the first round.

"Begin advance," he radioed.

**(The Duke of York's march)**

From their starting position on a slope in the north, Wavell team began to move. Russell team went in front of the Achilles, using their superior armour to cover the tank destroyer. Adjusting their course slightly to avoid a copse of trees, they drew to a halt as they discovered the first obstacle: one of the Churchills, idling in the dead ground. Hurriedly reversing back behind the copse, Russell team radioed Wavell team, still halfway back up the slope.

"They're dug in to some low ground, facing at about a right angle from our position. I reckon we can take em, they should be slow on the traverse in that Churchill right? I'll get behind them and pop a round in the back of that lumbering hunk of scrap."

"Sure, but be careful, they might expect it, so be sure you can hit it and take it out," responded Chris.

Russell team had already gone. Pushing their Meteor engine to the limit, they hurtled down the slope. Spotting the enemy as soon as they made their rush, the Churchill steadily rotated towards its target, but the Cromwell was faster, getting round the back of the Churchill with relative ease, giving Jake, the gunner, ample time to place a shot. Sadly, their emphasis on speed in the previous day's training had left a mark, and the Cromwell slammed a shot into the turret, which had nearly finished its turn towards them, and the round ricocheted away. Fortunately for the team, Wavell team was neither over-zealous nor inaccurate, having rolled down the slope into position with care. Hannah fired the 17 pounder straight into the rear armour at a 400m range. Needless to say, the tank was knocked out, a small white surrender flag emerging from the hatch.

"Nice one, I'll buy ya a drink later for that, and any others you get today," offered Chris.

"I'd rather not," replied Hannah.

Amy was somewhat less polite.

"Hey! Stop flirting with my sister! What would Katherine say if I told her?" she shouted.

Chris visibly paled at the thought. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he radioed a knockout confirmation to the other vehicles and then began organising his team.

"You realise that a second or so later and you'd have been history, yeah?"

"Shut up! We could have taken them," came the indignant response of Russell team.

Chris rolled his eyes.

"Troublesome."

The sound of gunfire had galvanised Clinton team into action, Katherine having apparently decided that the steady pace they had been setting was not acceptable. However, achieving a higher speed was somewhat difficult without leaving behind Pearce's Tiger, which was making only an average speed at best up the hill they were attempting to climb. Deciding to forge ahead, Katherine's Cromwell crested the ridge to spot two of the Cromwells patrolling an open area, making looping courses about half a mile in length. Shuffling into a tall bush to avoid detection, Katherine decided to consult Pearce.

"There are two Cromwells patrolling in the open ground, covering each other. They'll be difficult shots at the distance we are at if we want to stay concealed. What do we do?"

"I put you in charge Katherine, so you can tell me. To offer some advice, the Cromwell will struggle against the front armour of my vehicle, but if they can get behind the Tiger, they'll have me dead to rights, but their gun is still a little on the weak side to take me on. Keep scanning the field, I doubt that two unsupported Cromwells are willingly being so exposed without backup nearby," Pearce offered.

Katherine continued to scan the field, which was bordered on three sides by hedgerows, loose enough for tanks to roll throw, and on the other edge, a small stream, 10m across, which was fordable. In the hedgerow opposite, she picked out a small cylindrical object. A muzzle brake. Evidently, one of the Sherman fireflies was concealed within the hedgerow, and the overly long barrel on the vehicle was just peeking out from amidst the foliage.

"I see the beginnings of a barrel, it must be one of the fireflies. I don't think we can take them easily without support," she said.

"Then perhaps Hobart and Allenby team might lend a hand?" offered Pearce.

Calling the Comet and the Churchill from their nearby allies, Katherine began to lay down a plan of attack. Hobart and Allenby would advance until parallel with the firefly, on the other side of the stream, and the engineers would use their speed to bear down on the sniper tank, while the Tiger knocked one of the Cromwells out at a distance with its main gun. Clinton team would flank left to complete the trap. Then, all teams would converge on the final vehicle, hoping to prohibit its escape. With any luck, they could catch the sentries off guard and knock them out.

Shifting through the rough terrain that comprised their section of the practice zone, Hobart and Allenby teams encountered no other vehicles, presumably because the rolling terrain seemed prohibitive to a tank advance. Reaching his designated start point, Elliot took out a pair of binoculars and observed the field. If he could get enough speed going, the Comet would be flying along by the time they reached the stream, giving them enough momentum to charge towards the firefly and catch it before it turned towards them.

"Right guys, when we get the signal, we need to put the pedal to the medal. Get the first round loaded, and then once Isaac gets us in position, I want Lucy to put a round right into its back plate," Elliot told his crew.

"Elliot, what happens if this plan doesn't work?" asked Luke, as he placed the shell into the receiver.

"Well, we might be in for a bad time," Elliot replied nonchalantly.

A similarly nonchalant attitude was taken by Allenby team in their vehicle; the only sign of serious commitment being that Liam had put down his book for the time being, and was instead helping his team plot its attack path.

The Tiger shifted slightly within the bushes, its 88mm training steadily onto one of the Cromwells which was traversing the field in front of them, while Clinton team moved behind their hedgerow to find a good position for their assault. Waiting for the point that the two senior team tanks passed each other, the teams tensed up. Once that moment occurred, the tanks sprang into action. Hobart team roared down the ridge they were perched upon, splashing straight through the stream and heading for the firefly, which slowly reacted to the threat approaching from the flank. Pushing the Meteor Mark III as hard as it could go, Hobart team got behind the firefly, which was slowly pivoting on the spot, and lined up their gun. The shot sheared away track links on the firefly's right side, but did not take the target out, and so the ominous long barrel of the firefly continued to pivot, forcing Hobart team to move.

"Shit!" swore Isaac as he manoeuvred the Comet round to the side of the Firefly, avoiding the turret.

"Keep going, we just need a solid hit," said Elliot.

At the same time, the report of a powerful weapon from the other side of the field signalled the commitment of the Tiger to the battle. A smoking crater appeared in front of one of the Cromwells, enough to hamper its movement, causing it to slew slightly to the side and lose velocity. A second round from the heavy tank then ploughed straight through its armour, knocking it out.

"Nice hit!" Andrew congratulated Liam, as he placed another 88mm round into the receiver.

"Keep it up," said Pearce.

"But it's so much effort, I don't wanna," replied Liam jokingly, slouching as he retargeted the turret onto the remaining Cromwell.

Allenby and Clinton teams, having taken position on each side of the field while the skirmish had taken its opening stages, emerged from the hedgerows, and began to fire towards the remaining Cromwell of the seniors. The Cromwell decided to go and support its partner, rather than fleeing as anticipated. Shots fired by the Tiger, Churchill and Cromwell all missed, gouging great divots into the earth, but otherwise falling short for fear of hitting their own ally, engaged up ahead. This gave the Cromwell opportunity, however, to train their gun on the Comet, which was evading the firefly's slowly rotating turret. Their shot, which would have been far more likely to kill when stationary, hammered into the Comet's left side, crushing the rearmost wheel on the tank. This did however, make the Comet stationary, and gave Lucy the chance to place a single round directly into the Firefly, knocking it out.

The senior tank then made good its escape, pushing their tank off to the east as fast as possible, most likely to find their commander.

"After them, we can't let them escape!" ordered Katherine, angry that one of the enemies had managed to escape.

"I advise caution," said Pearce.

"Why? We could definitely take them in a straight up fight."

"If we were to pursue them we could be drawn into an ambush, so I would advise we wait. There are still 7 enemy tanks out there, two of them well equipped to pick us off at a distance if we don't watch out, and we seem to have three operational vehicles at the moment. Elliot, how are you doing over there?"

"We're out of it. The idler wheel is completely shredded. If it was just the track, we could replace it, but we don't carry spares for the actual wheels at the moment. We might be able to in actual matches though, sorry about that," confirmed Elliot.

"You did your best Elliot, it was just rotten luck that you took that hit. Cancel the last order, we should regroup," said Katherine, "Allenby team, you're coming with us since your partner tank is out."

"Yes, ma'am. It would have been foolish of us to go alone, for while fortune favours the brave, temerity is not always successful, as Livy said," responded Liam.

"Furthermore," began Pearce, now broadcasting to all crews, "I believe that Agnew will not take the defeat of his tanks by ours so easily, and will endeavour to bring us down. I am now issuing a general order to all crews to converge on HF 109, where our current battle has just been concluded. Our forces will set up an ambush to catch the senior team, and even if I have misread our opponent, we will have lost nothing, for he will still be adhering to the rules of this practice session. All crews converging on our position, I expect you to wait a way off, out of sight, and I assume the rest will be obvious when the time comes."

Whilst the large skirmish had been ongoing, the M24 Chaffee of Campbell team was pursuing its own course across the south of the battlefield. Following a similar path to the one Allenby and Hobart teams had adhered to before they joined with Pearce and Armstrong, they sought to use the terrain, which would be more difficult to traverse for tanks heavier than theirs. However, having followed their tortuous path to its conclusion, they peered down from a wooded ridge to see an open plain to a large iron bridge, followed by another fairly open plain which tapered off into woods. To their right, on the flat ground, was the road that led to the bridge, curving steadily round the rough ground.

"What do we do, Angie? That's pretty open ground there, we could be spotted and get taken out," asked Louise, the Chaffee's loader.

"We heard fire a way off. I have to assume that was that arrogant bastard Pearce and his crews, trying to show us up. They might have drawn the enemy away from us. So I reckon we can just go for it, we're a small target and a fast one at that. Plus, we can prove how much better we are than the others, so full ahead," ordered Clark.

"But, Angie! What happened to being sneaky?!"

"I don't care, get this crate rolling!"

The Chaffee roared over the ridge and straight down the slope, heading straight for the bridge at top velocity, a small dust cloud in its wake. The tank crossed the plain rapidly, eating up the distance between themselves and the safe haven represented by the far woods. As the Chaffee hit the bridge, a shot lanced out from those very same woods, narrowly missing the little tank. The bright muzzle flash gave it away as another Firefly.

"Shit," vocalised Clark, eloquently summarising their situation, "Keep going! Cross the bridge and head off to the right. If we stop moving, we're screwed!"

"Then don't worry, Miss Clark. Right chaps, let's deploy and support our allies," another voice cut in on the radio, belonging to Simon, leader of Marlborough team.

Proceeding down the road near the Chaffee's original position was the unit composed of Marlborough and Roberts teams. The Churchill had taken the lead position, due to its thick frontal armour, and they evidently intended to confront the enemy in support of Campbell team.

"We don't need your help!" shouted Clark indignantly.

"If you would prefer us to withdraw so you can confront that Sherman by yourself, feel free to say so, but occasionally the knight needs the support of a peasant to win his battles," said Simon evenly.

"Fine, just don't get in our way," ordered Clark, "Girls, get the tank running round the side of the Sherman. Take a wide route, with any luck those idiots in the Churchill will become their new target."

The Chaffee took a wide route around the Sherman across the open plain, while the Churchill and the accompanying Cromwell crossed the bridge at top speed. The firefly fired again at the Chaffee, the backwash from the shell fire actually setting the brush on fire around the tank, outlining its position to the teams. The Churchill began to fire towards the smouldering foliage as it moved, while the Cromwell of Roberts team scampered out from behind the larger tank to the left of the plain. The Firefly's turret began to rotate towards the Churchill, evidently deciding on hitting the biggest target first, the APDS rounds carried being more than powerful enough to breech the armour of the Churchill. Seeing this, the Churchill began to weave slightly, to make aiming a little more difficult, which was rewarded when the next shot arced past their left flank.

Even as the tanks closed in, the Sherman did not retreat, evidently because the crew knew that they could not outpace and evade the two lighter tanks of the party, and so were resigned to fighting as best they could before being knocked out. The lush greenery that had surrounded the tank became pitted and scarred as shells from the Wellesley teams, and a light smoke drifted up from where the 17 pounder had burned the tank's cover.

The Chaffee came to a stop roughly 50m from their target, facing the Sherman's side armour. Training their gun sights onto the vehicle's left flank, the 75mm on the Chaffee spoke, but gouged a divot into the ground just short of their target. This allowed the Firefly to fire one more round at the steadily closing mark VII, which snapped the front right track segment of the tank and sheared a track guard away with a rending screech. Sadly, that was all the Firefly could do, as it was then hammered from either side by the Cromwell of Roberts team, which had arrived on the Sherman's right flank, while the Chaffee fired from the left. Who had actually hit the Firefly was impossible to determine, but needless to say once the smoke cleared, the tank was a wreck.

Following the battle with the four Wellesley teams, the fleeing Cromwell covered ground quickly, heading east towards the position of their team leader and his Centurion tank. On arrival, having broadcast their imminent presence, they were berated by their team captain, who was sat amidst a quartet of tanks. With the reinforcement of another Cromwell tank, that gave Agnew two Cromwells, a Firefly, a Churchill and his Centurion to counter the Wellesley teams under Pearce. One other Cromwell was still in the field as a sentry. Even with the handicap of being sentry groups, Agnew was enraged that there had only been one enemy knocked out at the price of four of his tanks.

"Right! Anders, get your vehicle over here now!" he broadcast to the remaining sentry, "This upstart thinks he can outdo me, and I won't stand for it. We're gonna counterattack straight at his position and take him out, and all of his little strike teams after that. All teams, we're going to sweep towards Pearce's last position, that Tiger can't have gotten far," ordered James.

With a collective affirmative, the senior team headed out to confront their junior rivals, a roar of British made engines and the smell of petroleum filling the air.

"My plan is simple. My vehicle shall be the bait. It's hardly a stealthy tank, and I fancy the desert camouflage may not blend too well with the terrain anyway, even if we did get the drop on the other seniors. The length of the field effectively prohibits my being sniped by the Firefly. I want you Liam, on my right, and Katherine on my left, hidden behind the foliage to support me when the time comes. On the left, waiting for the signal, will be Russell and Wavell teams, waiting for the right moment, and to counter any flank attacks. Over the ford to the right will be Roberts and Marlborough teams, once Simon gets his track fixed. We will draw the enemy in and –…" Pearce began to lay his plans out, but was cut off near the end.

"What about my team!?" came an angry voice through the transmitter.

"Well Miss Clark, since you declined to follow me at the start, I hadn't given thought to where I was placing your team. Would you like to follow my orders again?" asked Pearce evenly.

"Be damned to your authority, just tell me where to go, and I might oblige," replied Clark sullenly.

"Since you seem so eager, why don't you attack the enemy from the rear? You might get to take out another Firefly, and it might seriously worry the enemy to be surrounded. You might also get to work out that anger you seem to have."

"Bite me Pearce," said Clark curtly, "I'll follow your orders, don't mess up."

"I don't plan to, Miss Clark."

With the ambush set up, Pearce's Tiger sat on the far edge of the field, facing directly east. Roughly 15 minutes later, a grumble of engines indicated the arrival of some of the senior team. The Centurion grumbled past the wreckage of one of the Fireflies, followed by a Churchill and a Cromwell. James gritted his teeth inside the Centurion when he spotted Pearce, stood up in his cupola on the other side of the field.

"He just sits there looking cocky because he took a few tanks out. It's obviously a trap, because they've been working in pairs from all the reports. Anders, you and the Firefly head right, take the high ground and rain shells down on this upstart. I want one of the other two Cromwells heading left to check the ground over the ford. I want them beaten roundly, so they learn where they stand against us. I want the flanks cleared before we advance in to finish that Tiger."

Grumbling across the terrain on the seniors' right flank, the Cromwell and the Firefly began to ascend towards a plateau which would give them an unparalleled field of fire. Unfortunately for them, as they reached the ridge they were met by the whistle of close shellfire, as several rounds flew overhead. Wavell and Russell team, obscured by dips in the land and rocks, were barring the path of the seniors, and the situation soon devolved into a shooting contest at around the 750m distance. Russell team were filling the air with most of the shot by doing as they had done the previous day, the experience with the Churchill clearly not enough to convince them of the necessity of aiming properly over firing rapidly. The Achilles, on the other hand, was waiting patiently to hit its mark.

"Keep it steady, Hannah, we want a clean hit. No sense in wasting ammunition," advised Chris.

"Understood."

Training carefully on the Firefly, its counterpart, and ensuring to hit its hull armour, Hannah hammered an APDS round straight into the enemy tank, ensuring an immediate surrender. At that distance, virtually no armour plate was stopping the round.

Seeing the surrender of the Firefly, Russell team saw their opportunity for glory.

"Go! This time we have them!" shouted Steven.

Gunning their engine, they closed with the enemy tank as fast as they could, trying to get round its flank. Sadly, the Cromwell they faced was by no means as slow on the traverse as the Churchill, and faced the hapless lads as they attempted their manoeuvre. Anders saw his chance, and the Cromwell placed a round dead onto the flank of their counterpart's tank. Skidding to a halt from their momentum, Russell team began to curse.

"I think I can safely say I told you so," said Chris over the radio.

The Achilles by this point had finished retargeting their weapon on the enemy vehicle, firing a single range finding round to ensure accuracy. James slammed home a round into the breech of the gun, and the turret ring whirred slightly as Hannah made corrections, eventually stopping as she lined the shot up perfectly.

"Fire!" shouted Amy.

The furious roar of the main gun slightly rocked the Achilles despite the counterweighting on the turret rear, and the muzzle flash temporarily blinded the crew. Blinking to readjust their eyes, they saw that while they had hit home, they had only disabled a track on the enemy Cromwell, Hannah having aimed slightly low to avoid firing over the Cromwell's low profile. Reloading and re-aiming, Wavell team picked the Cromwell off with the impunity that only comes with facing a foe who can't fight back. The Achilles then rolled forward slightly, checking for any further foes, before sitting in the scrub overlooking the field.

"We lost Russell to stupidity. And enemy fire, of course," radioed Chris.

"I expected the former," said Pearce dryly.

"We're in position to support you on the left."

"Wait for the signal, but have Hannah target the Centurion. You can fire when you think the time is right."

"Sweet," came the response of Taylor, relaying the order to his gunner.

On the left flank of the senior team, the other Cromwell sent to scout was somewhat more circumspect in its approach to the terrain. Cruising gently across the grassland on the other side of the ford, they spotted the Churchill of Marlborough team, waiting for orders to go into action. Opting not to fire, the tank moved closer, using the terrain to remain relatively camouflaged until it was around 200m away, nearly facing the rear of the Churchill. Choosing to abandon subtlety from then on, the Cromwell fired, and while the shot missed narrowly, it did finally get the attention of the team.

"We're attacked! Roberts team, we require your aid!" requested Simon.

"We'll help you Simon!" replied Anna, a shuddering from the bushes giving away the movement of her Cromwell to try and prevent their comrades being lost. Seconds later, a shot whistled out from the scrub towards the enemy.

This made little to no difference, however, as the next shot from the seniors firmly crushed the right side treads on the Churchill, prohibiting any form of defensive action. Moving to adjust their angle of fire, the Cromwell then sent several shots towards their stricken target, with return fire from both Roberts and Marlborough team streaking past them. Finally, the senior team struck home, getting a clean hit on the rear of the Churchill, the surrender flag heralded by a plume of smoke. The Cromwell then eyed its next target, Roberts team. The Cromwell of the R&D cadets had fired repeatedly on their senior team counterpart, but evidently needed work on their gunnery. Choosing to remain at range, the senior team then exchanged fire furiously with the techies, until a rending shriek told them that he had hit something. A ricochet from the turret ring of the opposing tank had damaged the traverse system, meaning that Roberts team could not rotate the gun very quickly. However, this was unnecessary, as the stationary nature of the opponent meant that the cadets, having finally found their aim, were free to hammer home a return shot, knocking out their erstwhile enemies for good.

"That would have gone better if we could put some better gun sights, or maybe an aim bot into the tank," commented Ellie, the gunner for the team.

"Somehow, I don't think the league authorities would allow such modifications to the tanks," replied Anna.

"Besides, it would be so difficult to do, and highly vulnerable to enemy fire. I mean, you'd need an array of sensor equipment, and somewhere to mount it…" said Alex, the loader, trailing off into tech babble.

"I hate to interrupt," came a voice over the radio, evidently Pearce, "But I would appreciate an update on your current status."

"We're functional, but we have no way to field repair the turret rotation system at the moment, so we're hand cranking it. We lost Marlborough team in that last skirmish unfortunately, we'd didn't see the enemy till the last second. Ooh, maybe we could get some IR equipment in the turret ring…"

"Since you appear to be damaged, remain in position and target the Centurion, we'll call you if needed," cut in Pearce, leaving the R&D cadets to continue discussing potential tank improvements.

"I know! Satellite coverage!"

"Definitely not a contemporary piece of technology, Lauren."

Pearce refocused onto the enemy in front of him. Agnew was evidently hesitating in his decision to attack, possessing only three tanks against the six that Pearce still maintained, albeit one damaged. He asked Jo to retune the radio to a different frequency, hoping to find the one that the seniors used. Finding nothing but static, he returned it to the normal channel.

"Well, I was going to see if I could provoke him verbally. Apparently that won't be happening today, so I think we shall use the old fashioned provocation method. Liam, target the Cromwell to the right of the Centurion. I think knocking that one out might enrage him suitably. Fire when you feel ready."

"Is 24 hours from now okay with you then?" asked Liam cheekily.

"I would rather it be done with some alacrity, Liam."

The 88mm on the Tiger spewed out a round in the direction of Agnew, narrowly skimming past the Cromwell Liam had aimed at.

"Well, guess I missed," he said nonchalantly.

In the Centurion, James was a little more mocking.

"What a terrible shot! I thought German tanks were supposed to be accurate, or maybe it's just the crew is incompetent," he chortled to himself, "I think we can probably just stay here lads, he isn't going to hit us. Or maybe we should give him a sporting chance and go a little closer, eh?" he said mockingly.

His amusement ceased a second later, as Liam refocused his aim. This time, with a terrible thud, the 88mm round hammered straight into the remaining Cromwell of the senior team, eliciting its immediate surrender.

Agnew swore.

"That's it! Attack! We are taking this sonofabitch down now!"

The remaining two senior tanks grumbled forward, closing the distance across the open field towards the Tiger. The sound of engines behind him indicated to Pearce that the other teams were getting ready to move out to support him.

"Aim for the Centurion, but only fire when you feel it necessary. I shall handle this myself. Liam, target the Churchill next."

A few protesting voices, not least amongst them those of Katherine and Jo, questioned the logic of Pearce's decision.

Liam aimed several rounds towards the Churchill, eventually scoring a crippling hit to the front armour once the tank had closed sufficiently with the Tiger. However, the Centurion was now within sufficient distance to knock the Tiger out, and Agnew had his team aim directly at the heavy tank, confident of knocking Pearce finally out of the game. The slow turret traverse on the Tiger meant that even with the small horizontal distance between the Centurion and the previous target, the Centurion would be able to strike Montgomery team down before they could respond.

A barrage of shots rang out from all directions, unleashing a veritable pall of smoke and fire.

Pearce popped the turret cupola and eyed the smouldering dents in the Centurion.

"Your timing was impeccable. I have to say, the level of accuracy was fairly impressive too. Well done, team."

"I aim to please, sir," replied Chris.

A bewildered and maybe a tad shaken Agnew could do nothing but sit there gawping.

**Chapter end**

**Character highlight: Christopher Taylor**

An 18 year old cadet at Wellesley academy, Taylor is the commander of Wavell team. A tall boy, with mid length brown hair, and some facial stubble, Chris is often seen being lazy. Laid-back and chilled out, only his superb grades manage to prevent the instructors complaining about his penchant for alcohol and sleeping. He is often seen in a Japanese style, woven straw hat, which he pulls down over his face to help him sleep. Chris enjoys sleeping, drinking, watching anime, and playing video games. He was Pearce's first friend at the academy when he arrived, and is one of the few people he trusts implicitly, part of the reason he was assigned to the M10, the other being that it's his favourite tank. Katherine often hits Chris when he misbehaves.

Character theme: Melodic Instrumental Rock / Metal Arrangements #113 (look it up on youtube)

Favourite tank: M10 Achilles

**This Chapter is now officially over! It has taken forever for me to write, and I don't think it's my best work, but it's what I felt worked for the characters. I hope you enjoyed, and drop me a review at some point. I'm off to continue building my 1:35 Tiger tank. Ja ne!**


	5. Chapter5: New Friends, Old Acquaintances

**It's time for chapter 5, and a load of fluff! I know last chapter may have made it seem like the Wellesley team are too good, but I thought I would try to make Pearce seem a little formidable. Plus, when basing something on an anime, expect inexplicable nonsense. I mean, it took the girls in GUP two episodes to figure out how to almost perfectly drive their tanks. Besides that, my model Tiger is coming together nicely, except the tracks are an absolute pain to get on the model (and paint).**

**14 Jan – Wednesday - Carrier Dauntless – 1730hrs**

The Wellesley teams regrouped after their day's practice, thoroughly spent from a day of harsh practice. The first practice session had shocked the senior team, as even though they were handicapped, they expected to breeze through their younger rookie counterparts. Following a short break, in which repairs were begun on all the wrecked vehicles, those still operational had headed to the clearing they had previously practiced their shooting in, but this time the targets were randomly spaced, some behind cover, forcing the cadets to find range and aim more precisely. Fortunately, it seemed even the teams which had previously emphasised fast shooting were now beginning to learn the value of accuracy, and there were far fewer random craters littering the area after practice there finished.

Once Hobart team and their senior counterparts had finished working their magic on the damaged tanks, a second session was organised. This time Agnew ordered his tanks to go all out on the rookies, but stick to the drill for most of the session, as they did last time. However, this time, Pearce organised his teams into three tank tag teams, as Clark was finally cooperating with him. The extra firepower helped prevent a large number of knockouts, but it was a far closer run thing in this session, as the junior team lost five of its tanks before the final confrontation occurred between them and an equal number of the senior tanks. Surprisingly, Russell team were still functional for this battle, and Pearce found them very useful as a distraction for two of the senior tanks, allowing the Achilles to knock them out at range. This time, however, rather than let his team deal with Agnew, Pearce let Liam do so immediately, the accurate 88mm leaving the senior captain immensely frustrated and his team without leadership. The front armour of the Tiger was pitted and scarred by the end of the session, and the right side S-mine launcher had been ripped from its mounting. Even Taylor's Achilles, which had been sat at the back providing fire support showed visible signs of damage. A second win for the rookies, even in such a session, left Agnew fuming.

The rest of the day had been dominated primarily by standard practice. Hart surveyed his class, all of whom appeared to be thoroughly exhausted, excepting Pearce and Taylor, who both looked as they always did, one expressionless and the other lazy and nonchalant. He was proud of their achievements thus far, but felt that they had gained far more from working with the other team than they had from any of his teachings. He sighed inwardly, wondering if this was due to his lack of experience in the field, or another deeper flaw. Hart determined to see his superior, Major William Thomas about this. Thomas tutored the senior team, and had done so for nearly a decade, so could probably help Hart a lot. About a minute later, Hart realsied that all his cadets were watching him, and broke out of his reverie to address the students.

"Today's practice was incredibly promising. You've shown incredible aptitude at picking up the skills necessary to drive your tanks. Our first friendly should serve to prove just how good you've become through training, and then our performance in the tournament itself will help establish our skills for future games. All of you are dismissed, good day."

"Yes, sir!" was the response of all the assembled cadets, as they dispersed in various directions.

Pearce walked over to Agnew, who turned towards him.

"What do you want?" the senior asked in an irritated tone.

"To express my thanks. You have successfully made my team better, and for that, I thank you."

Pearce extended his hand to the senior, who batted it away.

"I don't need you mocking me either," James said, turning and walking away from the somewhat bemused Pearce.

As James turned his back on the bespectacled cadet and walked away, he passed Chris, who was leaning against the door of one of the closed sheds.

"I think you may have mistaken polity for mockery there sir, that was one of the most friendly gestures I've seen from Sam in a long time, and you threw it back in his face. Just another nail in that box for Pearce, though, he's not exactly comfortable around people, and you've just given him another reason not to be," said Chris, perhaps a hint of scolding coming into his voice.

"He showed me up in front of my men, and your instructor. That little stunt he pulled in the first session, letting me think I had got him before destroying me, cost me my dignity. He even managed to get the headmaster to give him that damned Tiger tank. I don't care if I hurt that arrogant little shit's feelings," replied James, anger pervading his tone.

"Then be prepared for him to actually humiliate you at some point. Everything Sam did in that session was for a reason, a way to make the team stronger. Unlike most of us, who are cadets as a career opportunity or due to skill sets, Pearce does it because he loves it, and works twice as hard as any one of us here. He wants to win, because he wants to prove how good he is, that he belongs here, even when there are those set against him, like you. To see him fulfil that dream, me and his other friends will help him do it, even if he doesn't want our help. You are the arrogant one if you think he did what he did to spite you, that handshake he offered you was his way of giving respect, and Sam doesn't give them out often."

Chris's words hit Agnew like a brick wall. He'd assumed that this kid had deliberately fought the way he had to humiliate him, showing off in his ability to win. However, when he considered what Chris had just said, and some of the tactical decisions Pearce made, especially in the second match, his own hypothesis made no sense. Swallowing his pride, he turned around and walked to Pearce, who was now conversing with Elliot, who was working under one of the Cromwells, most likely Russell team's, wrench in hand. James offered his hand to Pearce, whose initial look of confusion gave way to a small, nigh on imperceptible smile, and the younger cadet gripped the proffered hand firmly.

"I hope to actually take you on in a proper practice match next time, kid," said James, "You won't come away from it quite as well as you did these times, when we were going easy on you."

"I agree with your first statement, Mr Agnew. However, your second statement may be requiring rethinking, as I can assure you, regardless of how 'easy' you go on my team, we will win," replied Pearce evenly, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.

James bit back a retort and walked off, hollering to his team to join him in the mess hall once they'd finished any work they were doing. Pearce spared the older cadet one more glance before returning to talking to Elliot.

"I believe that you were saying something about the welded body on these Cromwells, Elliot? I'm aware that this development of the Cromwell was a slight chassis build change from previous marks, but I fail to see what potential it has for improvement."

"Well, the riveted body on previous Cromwells meant that one could not modify the body following construction, as the non-uniform surface of the armour plate made reinforcement difficult. However, because these ones are welded, we can add applique plates to the armour to reinforce them."

"How quickly would we be able to add these plates? Perhaps we could surprise opponents with them in a match, where they suddenly find we have sturdier tanks than they thought. A weak and surprisingly open Cromwell which takes direct rounds without failure could certainly cause some confusion amidst the enemy," Pearce mused, looking at the front armour of the tank.

"I'm unsure, as they were welded to the body in their battlefield use, but some form of fastening system could be implemented, potentially. I'd have to check the rules list for the tourney, and work some mock-ups for its feasibility, but it sounds like quite a strategy you have there," Elliot's voice echoed up from underneath the Cromwell.

"Since you've managed to repair all the faults our friends in Russell team have created thus far, I have no doubt that if the strategy is legal that you can make it work for us," Pearce said, turning to leave, "I shall doubtlessly see you tomorrow, Mr Jones, for I have further preparations to make. Good evening."

As Pearce left the shed, and the sound of engineering noise, his coat was grabbed at the collar by Chris.

"So, Sam, are you up for a friendly spar? Nothing dangerous, mind, maybe help ya relax? I know you've been working on that longsword training in your spare time," Chris grinned, with a cheeky air to his proposition.

"I fear not, Mr Taylor. Our sparring hours are on Saturdays, and I have work to do, much as I appreciate the offer."

"You always have work to do," Chris complained, "You're just like Katherine. Do you ever actually relax?"

"Yes, I take a thirty minute break in my work schedule around 8:30 every evening to have a cup of tea and practice my music. I also read for an hour after I finish work, from roughly 10:30pm, and then go to bed. You know these things already, Christopher, and asking me a second time will hardly change my response," Pearce replied, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I would also appreciate it if you let go of my collar."

"You know what?" Chris asked rhetorically, "I think you need a night off."

"Oh really?"

"Yep, and I'm going to make sure you relax."

Pearce sighed, realising the inevitability of his acquiescence. His slightly more relaxed posture allowed Chris to begin dragging Pearce's booted feet across the drill ground. Katherine, Jo, Liam (Monty team's loader, not Allenby's commander) and Andrew all fell into step, as eventually Pearce decided to move under his own power, shaking Chris's grip off his collar and walking alongside him.

"Care to tell me where we're off to first, since you are so dead set on preventing my work?" asked Pearce.

"Well, since you're self-catered in your block, I thought it would be good for your tea to be made by someone else's fair hands, and fortunately, Katherine has volunteered. Or rather, I asked her very persuasively," claimed Chris proudly.

Katherine cast a glance at Pearce which told him that such a request involved begging on Chris's part.

"I assume you like Italian food? I hope so, since that's what I'm making," said Katherine.

"That sounds most commendable Katherine. I assume that Chris has planned some other diversion this evening?"

"Actually, I suggested we watch a film," Jo chipped in, "I brought Gladiator."

"A most excellent film, Joanna. I take it all of you have seen it too?" queried Pearce.

The rest of the party answered in the affirmative, although Liam claimed he slept through the middle part of the film when he watched it. The group of friends continued their animated discussion on the film, as well as its content and accuracy, until they arrived at Katherine's lodgings in Duke College. A similar layout to Pearce's own abode greeted him, as he noted that this was the first time he had actually visited any of his classmates. While her guests got comfortable in the living area, Katherine went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, dragging Chris by his ear so he could help her.

As the rest of the party sat down, shoes removed and uniforms slightly loosened, barring Pearce in the latter regard, Liam and Andrew were heatedly debating the best animated series. Liam was championing Full Metal Alchemist, whilst Andrew was clearly in the corner of western animation with Transformers. Jo gave Sam a slightly timid glance and asked him a question.

"Are you much of a fan of either of these? I must admit, I've never asked you about your hobbies before Sam," Jo almost looked embarrassed to be asking the question.

Pearce, who had been sat in a chair with a contemplative look on his face, turned towards Jo and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look.

"I am acquainted with these series, but have not really watched much of either Joanna," Pearce said, and then raised his voice to interrupt the heated debate, "I personally prefer watching Bleach over both of your choices, although I'm not exactly well versed in any series, animated or otherwise."

Stunned at the fact Pearce actually did something for fun, Liam and Andrew were too shocked to retort. Jo giggled a little at Andrew's expression, which was somewhat reminiscent of a fish given how he was gawping. Liam recovered fastest of the pair, and directed another question at Pearce.

"That was kind of a surprise to hear you say. Are there any other hobbies you've been keeping secret from us?"

Pearce frowned for a second at the question.

"I haven't kept them a secret from any of you. Have you ever asked before now?"

None of those assembled could actually recollect asking Pearce about himself before. A head popped out of the kitchen to answer the question.

"Hey! I asked you about your hobbies at least twice and you didn't answer!"

"Chris, you were drunk."

"I was drunk the first time. The second, I was a little tipsy, but the point is that I asked!"

Chris's shouting was interrupted by a hand grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him back into the kitchen, from where an aroma of tomatoes and herbs was beginning to pervade the room. Jo turned back to Pearce.

"So Sam, what do you like to do then?"

"I enjoy a good book, particularly Tolkien, I play guitar, I like strategy games, but above all, I love the study of warfare. Tankery is but one aspect of this, along with all of our training in the academy. Tanks are fascinating machines, the very incarnation of war, and I really enjoy being able to command one," said Pearce, a new fire in his previously empty eyes.

"I knew you were dedicated Sam, but I never thought it was more than your profession," commented Jo, surprised to see passion in the eyes of her friend.

"Perhaps you thought that because I was cold? Distant? Hard to approach? I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but I have my reasons for not being so open."

"And what are those reasons?" asked Andrew tactlessly.

Pearce's face returned to its stony visage.

"Those reasons are my own, Mr Roberts. Kindly allow me to keep them that way."

An awkward silence settled over the room. To break this tension, Chris rematerialized into the living room with a couple of bottles, evidently of the alcoholic persuasion. Placing them onto the table, he vanished back into the kitchen, and reappeared with a selection of glasses, and then an array of bottles and cartons which were evidently of the soft drink variety. Andrew and Jo both chose a soft drink, whilst Liam and Chris availed themselves of a whisky. Chris gestured towards Pearce to help himself, and the quiet boy leaned forward to take a glass full of cola.

"Not drinking? Surely you fancy a whisky?" joked Chris.

"I'm a rum man myself," replied Pearce, a ghost of smile playing across his lips at the stunned expressions he got from his friends.

Once the group had reasserted control over themselves, Pearce spoke again.

"Given that you decided to ask me a number of questions, I think I should ask you more about yourselves, given the little time we often spend together outside of class."

Jo was first to speak up.

"Well, I enjoy drawing, manga, reading, and playing a variety of instruments, but mainly play the banjo. I like spending time with my friends, and from our lessons am particularly interested in logistics and planning."

Andrew decided that he would butt in and go next.

"I really love sci-fi stuff, especially Star Wars, video gaming, and building Lego miniatures. I like to spend time on future planning, and pre-empting threats, rather than look back at the past, and I thought the time we sparred with staffs was fun."

"Even I gathered some of those things Andrew, purely from the amount of time you spend telling Liam or Jo about them," said Pearce.

"Hey! Just because I'm enthusiastic about stuff doesn't mean you can mock me," retorted Andrew.

"No, it's your non-stop chatter about it that means we can mock ya Andy," said Chris.

Liam put his now empty glass back on the table and decided to address the group.

"I kinda like sleeping most of all," he said, eliciting a giggle from Jo, "But I also watch a few animated series in my spare time, and enjoy retro films and games. I don't really find any particular element of our training more fascinating than any other really."

By this point, Katherine had finished creating tea. She wandered in with plates, and pulled Chris into the kitchen again to help her serve everything else. Soon, a plate of sweet smelling food was in front of all the guests, and the group all dug in with gusto. Chris decided it was his turn to talk about himself.

"Well, it seems most of us like watching anime in some kind, and you know I like a drink in my spare time…"

"Perhaps most of the time," said Katherine caustically.

"But I also really love doing chemistry. It was my favourite subject before I came here, and I still go see the R&D guys every so often. I do some drawings and artwork from time to time. Oh, and since we started Tankery, I've kinda been getting into tanks, there's a few new model kits in my room too."

"Then we should get some war-gaming rules and take each other on at some point Chris, I would love to see if you could beat me," Pearce commented.

"So would you like to tell Sam a little more about yourself Katherine?" asked Jo.

"My passion is for languages, and I hope to be a liaison officer when I graduate from the academy. I can play piano, but have no such facility here, and can only practice at home. I'm a little fond of Tolkien, and my favourite sport is tennis."

"Interesting," mused Pearce, "But I think we have had enough questions, although I am pleased to know more about each of you. I must also commend your cooking Katherine, it is superb."

"Hey! I helped!" shouted Chris.

"If by helped you mean kept distracting me. I don't even know why I dragged you in there to help," grumbled Katherine.

The others chuckled, and settled down to eat.

**15 Jan – Thursday – Wellesley Academy – 1700hrs (I know the interleaving is back, but I'm not cliffhangering, and I want the scenes to be chronologically ordered)**

Another practice session culminated for the Wellesley cadets, who once more mustered on the drill ground despite the rain that lashed down onto the square. Hart stood in front of them in a long raincoat, a little reassured by his talk with his superior, who had given him two things: a stiff drink, and a book to read on practicalities in tankery, both of which he thought Hart had desperately needed. His superior's confidence in him went a little way to restore his faith in his own teachings.

"Once again you have exceeded my expectations. A few more sessions and we'll have worked out the major defects in your tankery. However, I'm not going to do a full debrief, because you inevitably want to be inside, warm and dry, and so I shall let you leave. However, all team commanders are to come to one of the conference rooms with me, and we can discuss the match line-up from the league.

Adjourning inside, followed by his nine cadet commanders, Hart led them to a warm conference room on the second floor of the main campus building, a red brick installation, which while it appeared old from the outside, was surprisingly modern within. The team captains filed into the room, taking seats around a table. Settling himself into one of the leather chairs at the head of the long table, Hart turned on a projector, and pointed at a board at the other end of the room.

"Here are the first round matchups for our teams. Due to our joining the league has decided to allow some teams to combine their strengths for the tournament, given that they often have the same winners every year. However, these are the weaker teams being combined, and so we still have an even chance. However, in the first round it seems we have one of the top competitors, Saunders, to contend with."

The list continued down the board:

**Wellesley vs Saunders  
Oarai vs Bonple/Waffle  
Kuromorimine vs Yoghurt  
Pravda vs Scharnhorst  
Bradley vs Chi-ha Tan  
Kutusov vs Koala/Blue Division  
Anzio vs Maginot/BC Free  
St Gloriana vs Viking/Maginot**

"Are there any questions thus far?" asked Hart.

"What forces will our opponents be fielding?" inquired Katherine.

Pearce motioned as if he wanted to answer the question.

"I believe our team commander would like to field your query Katherine," Hart responded.

"Since I already follow tankery as an interest, I have some knowledge of the teams, and have compiled a basic set of rosters for all of them, as well as some additional notes. These may not be the exact teams of our opponents, but they will help us prepare for what could potentially be fielded. Saunders for instance field almost nothing other than variants of the M4 Sherman, including, strangely enough, the Firefly," Pearce stated, before sneezing.

"Looks like some lady is talking about you captain," drawled Chris in a light-hearted fashion

"I would appreciate if they stopped doing so," replied Pearce

"If you would be so kind as to circulate them to us in some way, those notes could prove very useful," Hart asserted, before Taylor could retort.

Pearce nodded in response.

"We also have personnel sheets for each team, but as they merely confirm those registered for the tourney, they will be more useful alongside Pearce's work."

"Well, at least now I know what Sam's been working on every evening," said Chris, lounging back in his chair.

"Actually, I've been working on our strategy against Pravda, Mr Taylor. Although, I believe we should concentrate more on the matter at hand. Oarai academy won last year, and Kuromorimine 9 times before that. They should be the competitors we are the most wary of."

"If that is the case," replied Hart, "Perhaps we should look at the personnel lists."

He pulled up a slide on the board, labelled Oarai, which possessed around half the number of cadets Wellesley were fielding. Pearce spotted a name halfway down the list, labelled as a captain, and he gritted his teeth. His fist clenched as well, sinking below the line of the table to his pockets where he thought no one could see. Chris spotted his move however, being sat next to Pearce, and decided to ask about it later.

"I think it may be better saved for another time, sir," said Chris.

"Of course. Well, if that is all, meeting adjourned."

Once they were outside, and more importantly, out of earshot, Chris grabbed Pearce by the shoulder.

"You mind telling me why you're so worked up?"

"She's on that list," hissed Pearce through gritted teeth.

"Who? Which she?"

"The one I told you about. The one who left me alone, who deserted me when I was younger."

"Just don't do anything rash," Taylor cautioned, "I do not condone revenge, but if you must confront her about it, be careful. Remember, I've got your back."

"I know. You have since I first met you," Pearce replied, a thin smile present on his face, "But I must at least know why." 

**15 Jan – Thursday - Oarai Academy – 0800hrs (It's a little skip back, but I was told about interleaving)**

The Oarai girls gathered on the plaza in front of their tanks sheds, a glorious sun beating down on the concrete. Miho was just about to address the gathered tankers as a loud crash echoed across the yard, followed by the toppling of the chain link fence that separated them from the car park. Evidently their instructor had not lost her penchant for big entrances, as her type 10 tank clattered onto the drill ground. Ami Chouno clambered out of her position within the war machine, and strode over to the somewhat bewildered team, giving a cheery wave.

"Hey there! I've brought the team lists and the match schedule for this term. For some reason they didn't do a draw, but here it is! They also attached a notice to the form to help us prepare for the changes they have made to accommodate the new teams."

Ami handed the forms to Miho, who scanned through them briefly.

"Would you mind if we went through them later? Getting all the team captains together and going over all the details might prove more fruitful, as they can circulate them later," Miho asked.

"Of course! Now what were you up to before I arrived?"

Miho gestured to the tank sheds, where the doors began to open, pushed by the mechanics, dressed in their distinctive overalls as usual.

"I was going to go over some of the modifications the mechanics made to the tanks to make them more battle-ready than last time. If we're against military academies, they must be well equipped. My old school was highly militarised, and we saw what resources they had, so there's reason to expect the same from these newcomers. We can maybe hope that none of them has had any tankery experience, which may give us a little proficiency over them, but it's still worrisome."

Miho broke out of her contemplation, and addressed the gathered teams.

"We have made a few changes to the guns of several of your tanks, so you'll have to re-familiarise yourself with their workings once you get back in them. Ducks, you have a new 37mm in your turret mounting, kindly donated by the old 38(t), and Anteaters, you have a 75mm type 5 for your newly christened Chi Nu Kai. Mallards, you have the same calibre of gun, but it's a German made variant in your B1 now, and may have some of its own idiosyncrasies. Finally, Rabbits, you have a 76mm in your hull mount, although this will tax your ability to traverse and your ammunition. Aside from that, the other teams have nothing added to them. So, if you want 15 minutes to get a feel for your vehicles, we shall be practicing all day, and then all tank commanders will be reporting to the student council office so we can go over this year's tournament. Is that good?"

A collective affirmative gave Miho her answer. The teams split off, heading to their tanks, some with a sense of trepidation as to their new weapons. A scent of petrol and a roar of engines begin to fill the air.

**15 Jan – Thursday – Oarai Academy - 1700hrs (The same time as Wellesley's meeting)**

Following a rather normal practice session, in which Ami had surprisingly contributed a great deal of advice to the teams, each team commander, along with the student council and Ami, gathered in the Student Council office. Yukari accompanied Miho, seen as her knowledge on virtually everything tank and military related could be useful. Once everyone was comfortably seated, Ami pulled a whiteboard and began to draw out the tournament structure. Despite having four new teams, the structure still only had 16 initial competitors. Yukari decided to point out the obvious.

"Erm, Miss Chouno, it appears that the four new teams haven't been added to the tournament."

"Actually, to combat the common trend in the tournaments of only a couple of teams winning, they've decided that some teams can double up to form larger teams, whilst accommodating the military academies into the tournament format with minimum fuss," Ami replied.

A bit more scribbling on the board revealed who was up against who:

**Wellesley vs Saunders  
Oarai vs Bonple/Waffle  
Kuromorimine vs Yoghurt  
Pravda vs Scharnhorst  
Bradley vs Chi-ha Tan  
Kutusov vs Koala/Blue Division  
Anzio vs Maginot/BC Free  
St Gloriana vs Viking/Maginot**

"I really wouldn't want to be in the Yoghurt team," commented Yukari, "It seems Kuromorimine have the best deal here."

"The league authorities also said that given such exigencies as they have put in the tournament, they will give out rulings as and when necessary if any disputes arise," said Ami.

"This process seems to lack a bit of transparency, doesn't it?" queried Yuzu, "I mean, we aren't drawing our opponents, and the league seems to be handing out decisions from on high this term."

"As long as we have the necessary willpower, it won't matter!" exclaimed Isobe.

Everyone gave Isobe a weird look. Miho decided to continue.

"Well it looks like our first round match is one of the double teams. Even with their increased numbers, I think we have a pretty good chance of winning," stated Anzu, as she relaxed back into her seat.

"Shall we have a look at the personnel lists then?" asked Ami.

"We may be able to discern some features of our opposing teams if we go over them. At least, the numbers of registered personnel might be able to tell us their number of tanks, and Guderian could potentially identify participants of interest for us," responded Erwin.

Ami produced a sheaf of papers, each set bound together by staples. Handing out different sets to everyone, a hushed quiet settled over the room. Miho had received the data on Scharnhorst, who had entered 65 team members into the tournament. Yukari whispered to her that Scharnhorst was another German style academy, and its seniors often used medium tanks and tank destroyers. Miho then estimated that Scharnhorst had around 12-15 tanks, dependent on their crews, and that this made them potentially challenging. Yukari also mentioned that their commander, Andreas Lederer, was the younger brother of one of the senior tankers, and as such, probably knew at least a little about tankery.

As the papers circulated, Miho was also told that Kutusov academy, a Russian academy, was well reputed as an elusive school, and saw that they had entered 45 participants, which either hinted at fewer or smaller tanks. If the idea of them being elusive was correct, Miho believed that they might compose their force of tank destroyers or other easily concealed vehicles, perhaps at least 10, which could explain their lower personnel numbers.

Bradley academy on the other hand, had brought 69 recruits to the table, and was styled as another American academy. They apparently followed shock and awe according to Yukari, who began a spiel about one of their senior team's matches, in which they had apparently used so many shells they levelled a great deal of the fortunately unused urban zone they were in. Much like Saunders, Yukari pointed out a penchant for Shermans, but made sure to stress that these were not the only tanks they had used. As she began to give a detailed list of all of the ones that she had seen them use in various matches, a sharp intake of breath caught Miho's attention. Erwin was currently holding the Wellesley papers, and something had evidently caught her off guard. When she realised everyone was looking at her, she hurriedly passed the papers to Miho, who began to scan them, looking for what could have shocked Erwin. Finding nothing, aside from a roster of 45 personnel, she turned to Yukari, hoping for an answer.

"Wellesley is a British academy, and they often field tanks from later in the war. Just because they are British doesn't make them St Gloriana though, as they are more pragmatic and less accommodating to their opponents. Their senior team is fairly well reputed, although not hugely decorated. The main rumour about their academy is the possession of a tank that's never seen outside of German schools normally. Aside from that I can't really see anything that special. There was a bit of data about their students in the material I've read, but aside from Pearce and Jones, I don't know any of them."

"Who are Pearce and Jones then?" asked Miho.

"Jones is the head of the engineering team at Wellesley, even though he isn't a senior, so he must be good at his job. I saw him after one of the matches their senior team had, being interviewed, but he didn't seem very happy in front of a camera. Pearce, as the form indicates, is the current commander for this rookie team. He was listed as 'one to watch' in an article I read on the academy, but there is almost nothing about him other than that," replied Yukari.

"There is more to him than that," said Erwin, who had removed her hat and was currently staring at it wistfully, "He's motivated, highly intelligent, and if we come up against him, we'll have to be performing our best if we want a chance at winning."

"How exactly do you know all this?" asked Momo.

"It's quite simple really," replied Erwin, standing up to leave, "He was the one who gave me this hat."

**Chapter End**

**Character Spotlight – Elliot Jones**

Elliot Jones is 18 years of age and the current head of the engineering team at Wellesley. This is unusual given that he is a junior student, and not one of the seniors, but his expertise in mechanical matters made him suited for the job. Elliot is of middling height, with cropped brown hair, and is often seen in a pair of grey overalls, occasionally accompanied by a wrench. He also captains Hobart team, who drive an A34 Comet. Elliot doesn't mind getting his tank damaged, as that's just more stuff that he can tinker with, and has a genuine enthusiasm for his work. Elliot is fairly quiet, but is equally at home with people as he is with machines once he gets to know them. He shares a respectful friendship with Pearce and some of the other tankers, but commands respect from all, especially if those tankers want their rides fixed. Elliot often plays video games in his spare time if he's not tinkering with a new machine.

Favourite Tank – Panzer V 'Panther' Ausf. G

Theme Song – Angel Beats OST – Crow Song (Instrumental)

**Character Spotlight – Jo Reid**

18 years of age, much like the rest of her friends, Jo Reid is the communicator for Montgomery team at Wellesley academy. She is a short girl with shoulder length brown hair, and often sports a cheerful smile on her face. Pearce chose her to be his communicator due to their long standing friendship, as Jo's sympathetic and understanding nature eventually won Pearce's trust. She was also chosen because those same traits allow her to very easily talk to everyone around her, ideal as the relay for Pearce's orders. A bit of an anime lover, and a fan of drawing, she often combines these into stunning sketches. Her other penchant is for playing music, especially her banjo.

Favourite tank - T-34

Theme Music – Angel Beats OST – Morning Dreamer (Instrumental)

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I wanted to expose the person that I had been hinting at for several chapters and set up my tournament ready to start following the friendlies. I've also tried to make Wellesley's characters more rounded and developed. Please leave a review, follow, etc, I like to know what you think of my work.**

**Ja ne!**


	6. Chapter 6: Memories and Enemies

**Hey guys! It's time for another chapter of Girls und Panzer: Open Warfare. I think I shall give out a notice, I will be on holiday for a good two and a half weeks come the 24****th**** of July, so there will be no updates. I hope to write one to post before I leave, and another when I get back. I'm trying to make this a fortnightly thing. But, enough serious talk, for it is time for some serious tanks!**

**Saturday – 17 Jan – Wellesley Academy – 1515hrs**

This particular day at Wellesley was overcast and foggy, the academy ship slowly nudging its way towards its destination, a rendezvous with Kutusov academy and their tanks for a friendly match. This was also a half day for the students, and as such practice had just finished for the tank crews, although they were told that they would be training Sunday and Monday to ensure full battle readiness against their opponents. Instead, ringing out from one of the training halls in the sports section of the campus was the sound of clashing steel. Whilst most combat courses were taught with safe gear such as bokken, the wooden kendo swords,the academy did offer the opportunity for its students to practice other styles. As such, two of the tankery cadets were sparring with each other using training blades, albeit blunted ones, while a few others looked on. The two were strangely matched, both in physicality and blades, the tall one using a katana, the other a relatively thin hand-and-a-half blade. Eventually, the taller of the competitors lashed out with a diagonal cut that was parried and then forced back by his opponent, leaving his arm locked at an awkward position where he could not use his strength to break out.

"Yield," his opponent said, his voice unwavering.

The taller man dropped his blade.

"Wow Sam, that was ruthless, even for your fighting style," replied Chris, retrieving his blade and readying himself again, "I'd say you have some pent-up aggression there."

Pearce's response was to deliver a rising slash, followed by several blows which Chris blocked, shifting slowly backward as he did so.

"My mood is none of your concern Christopher. What should concern you is the gap in your defence on your lower left side."

"Is knowing this girl is in the tournament really concerning you this much?" Chris asked, ignoring Pearce's statement.

The two eventually found themselves in a bind, both blades grinding against each other. Pearce glared at Taylor for his previous statement and his indiscretion.

"No, our friendly match is the reason behind my current mood," Pearce lied, something that Chris spotted easily, "I am concerned that we are still raw recruits, even if our opponents are as well. This will be our trial by fire, and I will be damned if we fail."

"You do realise that it is a friendly."

"It's also a test of my leadership. I am not particularly well liked by our team, and there are those who want my place at the head of our tanks. I will not fail."

"I highly doubt that you will," replied Chris, gesturing to the spectators, Jo, Elliot and Katherine, "After all, you have us to help you."

Pearce sheathed his blade and walked away wordlessly, leaving his four friends to wonder what they had said to upset him. He also did it so they couldn't see the single tear in his eye.

Chris looked around for a second before turning to the other three.

"It definitely was not my fault this time."

The convenient book in Katherine's hand flew in a graceful arc to impact with Chris's forehead with a loud smack.

"You're the only one that said anything! Of course it's your fault!" she shouted.

"Did you ever consider that you not saying anything could also be the cause?" Chris retorted in a joking manner.

A second thud echoed through the hall.

"I really have to figure out where she keeps those books."

**1600hrs**

Pearce had returned swiftly to his room following his departure from the practice hall, and had spent a while reading to rebalance his emotions. Sat in his chair reading a copy of Clausewitz's On War, Pearce heard a knock at the door. Opening it to find his fellows stood there, the same group he had just been training with, he wordlessly gestured for them to come into his abode, deciding it was easiest to tell them and quash their curiosity before it began to irritate him.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I did," Chris began.

"Save it Chris, I know it was accidental," Pearce replied wearily.

Sam gestured to his living area.

"All of you, sit down and just hear me out," Pearce said.

Each one of the group sat down in the main reception area. Pearce walked back into his room and picked up the framed photograph that he had previously laid face-down. Returning to the main area and facing his friends, he began his explanation.

"Since Christopher decided to tell all of you about why I am so stressed, I thought I should give you the whole story. But breathe a word of this to another soul outside this group and you will regret it."

"We won't, Sam. We promise," assured Jo.

"Promises are easily broken," Pearce replied sadly.

Jo almost flinched visibly from Pearce's tone. He was usually apathetic or disinterested toward most people, but that response had contained hurt, and lots of it. Pearce composed himself, and looking around for any other interruptions, decided to start.

"Chris pointed out earlier that the reason I am pent-up is because somebody I know will be in the tournament on the Oarai team," he stated.

"Why does that matter?" Elliot asked.

"Because she was my friend," Pearce replied.

"Was?"

"Not anymore," the bespectacled cadet responded, the inflection suggesting that this relationship was far removed from friendship.

"How do you know this person then? They're from an entirely different country," Katherine pointed out.

Pearce sighed, deciding to start at the beginning of his story for the sake of clarity.

"I've never told any of you this, but before I came to this academy, I did at one point live abroad. My mother is a research assistant, and my dad a lecturer, and when my mother was offered a job in Tsukuba she took it. I was 11 at this point, and transferred into a Japanese school after a two month course in Japanese, which was followed by a great deal of tuition. I didn't get many friends in my first term, but when I could actually speak to other students, I found a few people that I could hang around with. Nobody really got my love of militaria or history, so I was never close to any of them."

"So I'm guessing you met this girl Chris mentioned at some point after this then?" Elliot asked.

"I met her about halfway through second term. I was sat outside reading a book on great commanders, and she spotted a picture of Erich von Manstein as she walked past. She asked if she could sit with me, even though she could only read a smattering of English, and I agreed. We soon realised we had a lot in common, eventually we started meeting up outside school, although our parents thought we were bad influences on each other. I only learnt her name the second time we met outside of class,"

"What was it?" queried Katherine.

"Her name is Riko Matsumoto, but she probably doesn't answer to that much anymore," Pearce answered.

"Why not?"

"Her nickname is 'Erwin', because her hair sticks up at the sides so it looks like a desert fox, and she loves military history, in particular World War Two. Thus, she acquired the nickname 'Erwin', because Erwin Rommel was 'the desert fox', and it stuck with her."

"Why does she mean so much to you?" Chris interjected.

"We were inseparable; we went to museums, played games, read books, even though our parents disliked our friendship. She was also pretty much the only lasting friend I made, all the others just drifted in and out of my life."

Pearce lifted the photo up to show everyone.

"I gave her the hat I was wearing in this photo as a farewell gift. She always disliked having her head bare because of how her hair looked, so I gave her that hat to cover it up."

"Why did you have to give her a farewell gift?" Elliot asked.

"My mother's research deal fell through, and I had to move home about two months before my 14th birthday. Neither of us had many close friends, so it was quite painful leaving each other, and we both promised to keep in touch frequently."

"So why are you now so hostile to her?"

"For the first six months our messaging went fine, but then the communications dried up, and I was left alone. The last correspondence I sent to her was on my 16th birthday, two weeks after I enrolled here, much to my parent's disapproval," Pearce said bitterly.

"That's hardly a reason for so much anger," Chris said.

"True, but it is more what happened while her letters slowed down that upset me. At home my classmates disliked me immensely, castigating me as a loner, insulting my interests, and essentially ostracising me from social life. When I expressed a desire to be in the military, my peers laughed at me. My parents weren't exactly supportive either. They don't like anything military, not since two of my dad's brothers, and his uncle, died while in military service."

By this point, Jo, Katherine and Elliot were giving Pearce sympathetic expressions, while Chris looked a tad confused.

"So out of all of the people to be mad at, why your friend? Why not your classmates, or your parents?" Chris queried, breaking Pearce out of his unhappy musing.

"I never said I wasn't angry at my peers for being so closed-minded, but Erwin's transgression was more hurtful. That girl broke a bond we had with each other, and left me alone, and so I decided to find her so she can explain why she did it. Her letters were a lifeline that made me happy while others tried to make me sad, but they stopped coming. Now that I have found her again, I want to know why she stopped writing," Pearce finished.

"Why is getting an answer so important to you?" Chris asked.

"Because I have to know if she is still my friend," Pearce responded.

"But why won't you just move on and let us be those friends that you want?" Katherine said.

"I'm just not comfortable with letting people close to me, because then they might try to hurt me, or even if they are true in their friendship, they might leave me alone again. That face I wear in front of the others is a way of coping with pain, as by being apathetic I can no longer be hurt by those around me. If I don't look upset by anything, nobody can use it against me."

"Why did you become so apathetic though?"

"I suffered my classmates' insults and bullying for a fair length of time, and eventually I just stopped caring. I numbed myself to feeling, and I closed myself off from people. I threw myself into my hobbies and my studies, deciding that I needed no-one and would excel on my own. I want those people who looked down on me to see me succeed, so I can prove that I can fulfil my dreams, even when others deny it."

Pearce put a thin smile onto his features.

"I am grateful to you that you want to be closer to me, and that you seem genuinely concerned about me. I hope to prove worthy of such esteem at some point, but that might be a long way off. I'm just not very good with people, and I don't really want to get hurt again. I think finding Erwin might be a step towards changing that."

"Then when you feel ready to trust in someone again, we'll be there for you," Taylor said earnestly.

The four friends filed out of Pearce's accommodation, each shooting him a reassuring smile as they left.

**Monday – 20****th**** Jan – Wellesley Academy – 1730hrs**

The cadets assembled themselves on the drill ground following practice the next day, as usual in immaculate ranks. The day's practice session had been uneventful, and as Taylor gazed towards the front where Hart and Pearce stood, he could detect none of the emotion that he had seen in Pearce the previous evening and was instead greeted by the same impassive visage as usual. Evidently the boy still didn't trust people enough to show them anything other than a mask of uncaring professionalism. His gaze drifted back to Hart, who was about to address the cadets.

"Practice is finished for today," announced Hart to his assembled cadets, "We will be docking in Rzhev sometime in the night for our practice match. Get some sleep, I want to see all of you here at 0600 tomorrow to prepare your vehicles and yourselves. Your practice has gone well, indeed better than expected, and I feel that tomorrow may indeed confirm this to you. Tank commanders, Captain Pearce will be briefing you on tomorrow's strategy, so follow him when you leave. Dismissed."

The students filed out, leaving the tank commanders to follow Pearce, who beckoned to them to follow him. Hart also followed the diminutive cadet, wanting to listen in on his plan. Returning to the same conference room where they had discussed the tournament arrangements, Pearce sat at the head of the table, flanked by Chris and Liam. Soon the projector displayed a map, dotted with standard military features.

"Rzhev is a heavily wooded, fairly rolling battlefield, which makes it somewhat difficult to conduct united manoeuvres in formation. I would imagine that skirmish strategies may be heavily favoured on this battlefield. This suits the battle tactics of our opponents, as from what I have gathered from their senior team they favour tank destroyers over heavy frontal assault units."

"Ok, so what do we do to combat these sneaky buggers?" asked Stephen.

"Firstly, we must be prepared to annihilate scouting units quickly and rapidly reposition as well as assault enemy positions quickly. We are going to move from our starting position into a skirmish line using the cover of the foliage to mask us from the enemy, as well as give us fields of view in front of us," Pearce stated.

Pearce gestured to a spot in the southern sector of the map, marked by the school's logo. Another icon, a two headed eagle gripping a red star, marked the opposite side of the map.

"Do we just wait there or actually fight them properly?" asked Angela in an irritated tone.

"I expect enemy scout tanks to move forward towards our starting position rapidly, so as to get the enemy vision of our positions. Hence, once they are destroyed, or fleeing, we can pursue and use our fastest tanks as scouts so that those with heavier guns can return the favour."

"Why are we being so defensive? We could rush 'em and catch them unprepared, and then those tank destroyers will be sitting ducks," announced Stephen.

"Quite simple. If they are prepared, we lose. If they are not, by some dint of good fortune, then we might just win. I will not hedge even a friendly on some ridiculous gamble. Methodical, sensible plans are a British staple, and we shall stick to such ideas. Any other questions?"

"Have you planned any further into the match?" asked Hart.

"I have developed at least six different potential plans for further into the match, but they are primarily situational and so it would be pointless to lumber our commanders with such alternatives since they may not actually occur, sir."

"I see. It seems you have prepared most admirably then."

"Thank you sir," Pearce replied, "I have a copy of the map to give to everyone, marked with our initial deployments. Aside from that, our briefing session is essentially at an end. Good day."

Leaving a small stack of papers for each of the captains to take, Pearce swept out of the office, pulling his coat on as he did so. Taylor grabbed his paper and made to follow him.

"Can you give me anything else on what you plan for tomorrow?" he asked.

"I plan to win. What I politely ask is that you follow your orders and we should have no issues fulfilling that plan," Sam replied, a frosty tone to his voice.

"I did mean specifics. C'mon Sam, I'm on your side here."

"Quite. Your role for the battle will be that of a support vehicle. While our faster tanks flush the rats out of their holes, you will be patiently waiting for them to appear, much as they shall try, and fail, to do to us."

"Why will they fail?"

"Because we will thwart them at every turn. As Sun Tzu teaches, we will be close but still untouchable. They will be aware of us yet unable to strike. We destroy their eyes, their scout tanks, and they can no longer perceive the threat ahead of them. If Russian commanders teach anything, it is that they are easily provoked, and we shall taunt and goad this particular bear until he finally thrashes around in a rage, where we can put him down."

"Did I ever tell you that you can be scary at times, Sam?" Chris remarked.

"I'm fairly sure this is at least the fifth time this year," Pearce replied.

**Monday – 20th Jan – Oarai Academy – 0800hrs**

Practice was about to begin for another day with the Oarai girls. An overcast sky hovered over the carrier and a lightly chill wind meant that a few of the girls were rubbing their hands together. As they mustered on the yard in front of the sheds, an enthusiastic Anzu gave a cheery wave to the assembled students as the Student Council took Miho's usual place in front of the students.

"Hey everyone! I was reminded earlier by Ami-"

"You mean I was…" Yuzu whispered to no one in particular.

"I was reminded earlier that the academy friendlies are tomorrow, and that we might get some useful scouting info by observing them, so I thought I'd ask if anyone wanted to go there to watch."

A few hands went up. Those hands belonged to: all of Anglerfish barring Mako, Erwin and Saemonza. Mako evidently thought the prospect of missing sleep was a little too much to bear, and that she wouldn't be much use spectating as she would just drift off halfway through.

"I think I should observe them, I am the team leader after all," Miho mentioned, looking downwards as she often did when thinking.

"I want to see some more British tanks, and I follow where Miss Nishizumi leads," said Yukari.

"We're following Miho's lead," announced Hana and Saori.

"Plus, there might be some cute boys there!" Saori giggled.

Erwin wanted to go for reasons that she left unvoiced, but the commanders knew well enough, and Saemonza wanted to be there as support. The blonde-haired captain began to muster her mental fortitude for what could lay in front of her. Removing her hat briefly to stare at the memento, she restored it to her head peak-first and schooled her features into her usual smirk, although this one lacked the usual fire behind it.

"Ok then! Ami will be coming with us too, so that makes ten of us total," said Anzu.

"We leave at 1600," Momo added, "So practice will finish at 1400 today so you can prepare for the trip."

**Tuesday – 21****st**** Jan – Rzhev – 0900hrs**

A small blanket of mist covered the rolling hillscapes of the battlefield where the friendly was about to take place. As he stood on the deck of the carrier watching the vehicles being slowly disembarked into the port bearing the same name as the arena, Pearce went over his plan once more. His trench coat billowed around him as the coastal wind picked up, and the cadet slipped his gloves on, taking care to tuck them into his sleeves. He adjusted the pendant at his neck, the small knight's cross that he usually tucked into his uniform and straightened his uniform. Finally, he checked the laces on his black military boots, taking care that they would not snag or come undone, and once satisfied, he strode over to where the rest of the cadets were mustered, but maintained a small degree of distance from them, as he was not in the mood to mingle with his classmates.

Following a quick transfer to the centre of the town, where the two teams met, Pearce and his tank commanders went to meet their opposite numbers. All but one of Wellesley's tanks were deployed in the square opposite Kutusov's, a gap in the middle left for the teams to meet. The first thing they realised was that there were eleven of them to Wellesley's nine. They wore grey coats with yellow trim, and black military pants with a yellow stripe down the side. Pearce sighed when he saw who was leading them. A huge cadet with strong features and shaggy black hair led the group of Russian cadets. His features were almost bearlike, and the huge grin on his face when he saw Pearce only served to irritate the smaller cadet. Easily a full foot taller than Pearce, the Russian towered over him.

"Greetings! I am Dmitry Kravchenko, the leader of this team. You stand at their head, so I guess you are their commander?" the Russian introduced himself.

Pearce reciprocated the introduction.

"I am the commander of the Wellesley team. Samuel Pearce. A pleasure."

Pearce extended his hand for the Russian to shake, but the huge man ignored the gesture and clapped him on the shoulder instead, a jovial grin on his face

"So, little man, how do you feel seeing some proper tanks?" the giant laughed.

"Considering I see my own almost every day, fairly standard."

The Russian looked perplexed at Pearce's response for a second, before letting out another deep laugh.

"I note that you have few teams here at the moment, or perhaps one too many captains for those present," Kravchenko said, peering over Pearce's head.

"Not quite. Each of my captain's tanks is here, but mine is not."

"If I was looking for a tank for a man of your stature, I would have thought it might be hidden behind one of your subordinate's vehicles," the Russian laughed.

Pearce raised an eyebrow at Dmitry.

"Rest assured, you will know when my tank has arrived, Mr Kravchenko. Even a person of your imposing stature might look small next to it."

"I will believe that when I see it."

Pearce decided to change the subject.

"How good do you feel your chances are in the tournament this time? It's the first go for all of our academies."

"We'll win it for sure," the Russian grinned.

"I wish you luck, and I hope you achieve more than your senior team managed," Pearce said.

Having been studying other tankery battles to create his strategies, Pearce had tuned into the senior league. Kutusov had not done well last season, being knocked out ignominiously by a Canadian team in the first round. This was a sore point for the prideful Russian, who seethed and cocked back a fist, evidently to try and flatten the smaller man. Pearce didn't even move, evidently waiting for Kravchenko to try and strike with an unfazed disposition.

"Dmitry! Calm yourself," a feminine voice ordered.

The big cadet lowered his fists begrudgingly as one of his captains came to stand next to him. The only female in the Russian group, petite and slender with mid length blonde hair; she appeared comically small next to her superior. The height difference was only emphasised by the ushanka she was wearing atop her head, the blonde locks messily spilling out from under it.

"Our apologies, Dmitry is always hot-headed. I am Kristina Oborin, the second in command here."

She extended a hand to Pearce, which he shook perfunctorily.

"May our match prove useful and entertaining," he said.

"Likewise."

A grumble of engines indicated the arrival of Tiger 131, growling into the centre of Wellesley's tank line before Stephen cut the engine. The Kutusov team looked a tad surprised by the appearance of a German heavy tank in the line of British vehicles.

"Commander Kravchenko, this is that 'little tank' that I command. Is it big enough for you?" Pearce said.

Dmitry laughed, much to Pearce's surprise.

"You were right! I do look small next to it! But where did you get that tank?" the Russian asked.

"Our nation captured it in the war, restored it, and then gave it to our school, where it is only utilised every so often," Pearce replied.

"I feel honoured that you felt the need to bring it out for me then."

"I hope you feel that way after the match. I suspect you might find yourself wishing I'd brought a tank my size by then."

"We'll see, little man,"

The two teams bowed to each other as per custom, and then headed to their vehicles so that they could deploy. Pearce was deep in thought.

"I take it you're analysing their behaviour captain?" came the cheeky voice of Chris, a lazy grin as usual etched on his features.

"I have yet to work out how you can read my mind Mr Taylor. If you can do so deliberately, I may yet have you shot for espionage," Pearce remarked sarcastically.

"In my opinion it looked like the big Russian dude, while he is usually quite jovial, has a bit of a temper if you can figure out what annoys him, and that second in command of his is somewhat of a calming influence," Chris remarked, "Take her out and we have a hot-headed bear with a huge ego in charge of some fragile Russian machines."

"Indeed," Pearce replied, displaying a small smirk, "Perhaps we should goad the bear then?"

"You're being scary again, sir."

"I try."

**Point of View – Change!**

Oarai had arrived before the two teams had assembled in the town square, although Ami had left to find Wellesley's instructor, and were watching carefully as the vehicles were disembarked from both ships. The obvious exceptions to this rule were Saori, who was looking out for good-looking guys, and Anzu, who was happily chomping on her dried sweet potatoes. The disembarking Russian tanks, from what they could see, were composed primarily of tank destroyers, with a couple of lighter tanks thrown in, evidently as spotter vehicles, highlighted by Yukari's constant commentary. By sheer contrast, a large variety of vehicles were disembarked from Wellesley's carrier, including the ominous bulk of a Panzer VI Tiger tank, which Yukari gasped at.

"That's no. 131! I thought that was in a museum!"

"What's so special about it?" Hana asked.

"This is the only functional Tiger possessed outside of German academies, making it an incredibly rare and useful weapon to have. It was captured by the British when the crew bailed out of it. Taken back to England and studied, it was then used to help aid tank design, before being given to the care of a museum, who apparently gave it to Wellesley academy to restore."

Erwin had been listening to Yukari's spiel about the Tiger, and it brought some buried memories back unbidden.

"_The Tiger is definitely my favourite tank; it's a masterpiece of design and engineering, with its powerful 88mm gun. There aren't many left though, especially not back home. I think there's only one in the whole country. What about you, Riko?"_

"_I like the Jagdpanther. Its powerful, combining the armour of a Panther with a deadly cannon."_

"_I'd love to drive a tank one day, don't you think?"_

"_That'd be awesome! Think about commanding a whole Tigergruppe, or even a panzer battalion, wouldn't that be great?"_

She shivered slightly, and resumed scanning the disembarkation for any signs of her old acquaintance, unsure whether she did or didn't want to see him again.

Miho, having listened to Yukari, was reminded of her sister, the older Nishizumi also being the driver of a Tiger I. In fact, the two tanks were almost identical barring the reference number, as both were early production Tigers with their signature Pfeifel air filters. The other thing she noticed was the presence of a small palm tree emblem on the frontal armour plate, indicating its service in the Afrika Korps. Thankfully, the previous emblem had been altered to bear the Iron Cross rather than the alternative. The tank itself, like all of the other competitors, was repainted into forest pattern camo in anticipation of the battle ahead. Her main realisation was that both academies were well armed and equipped with vehicles, which while not on the scale of Pravda or Kuromorimine, were nonetheless a potential threat and definitely challengers for this term's league.

While the disembarkation of the tanks was taking place, the Oarai girls went to a nearby café, and seated themselves for some refreshments before the match got underway in earnest. Once they sat down, Saemonza decided to confront Erwin about her mood. The usually cheerful and open girl had been awfully quiet for the last few days, not necessarily contributing to conversations and only speaking when spoken to. It was unusual.

"What has you depressed? You look like Toyotomi Hideyori, contemplating his final days as Ieyasu besieged him in Osaka castle. I just hope you don't try to do what Hideyori did."

"What did he do?"

"He committed seppuku. Anyway, why are you so quiet?"

"My former best friend has come back from the metaphorical dead, as if Yamamoto had come back to challenge Nimitz. He attends Wellesley academy, one of the ones we are watching today. I haven't seen him in years, and he stopped messaging me over two years ago. I kept sending them for a time, but never got a reply," the blonde replied.

"So much as Robert E Lee and Ulysses S Grant once were comrades, now you find yourselves foes?"

"In a way. I knew him before I came to Oarai, and he was my best friend, but he returned to England after a couple of years. We agreed to send letters, but from some of the ones I received, it seems communication between us was disrupted, and he seems to have become isolated. I think he may have been lonely, and from what he said, wasn't receiving my messages. So I'm stuck between finding him to see if he is well, or not finding him because he might hate me for what he might see as abandonment," Erwin trailed off, her tone full of depression.

Saemonza slammed her fist into the table.

"You know full well that's a cowardly outlook. I don't think your name suits you anymore, because I know full well Erwin Rommel wouldn't do what you contemplate. Did he not say that the boldest decisions offer the greatest success?"

Erwin recovered immediately.

"That's it! I'll seek him out and confront him, much as Hannibal sought a battle with Fabius!"

"Have you been reading Caesar's books again?" Saemonza asked.

"Then I shall find him, like the Desert Fox of the Afrika Korps sought the Desert Rats!" Erwin proclaimed, her usual smile reappearing as she proclaimed it.

"Much better."

By this point, the other girls had finished their refreshments, and the Oarai girls relocated to the spectators' area, situated in a nearby park. Eventually the massive display screens for the battle came online, showing the middle of the town square, with a rundown of each participant and their vehicles at the sides of the screen.

As the camera panned across the members of each team, perched on their tanks, and the captains, meeting each other in the middle of the square, Saori almost squealed.

"Look at all the cute guys!"

She pointed at one of the captains, a tallish lad with brown hair and visible stubble, and the boy next to him, another tall guy with black hair and a definite sporty build. Saori's face was practically lit up as she scanned the assembled ranks of cadets.

"This is just wonderful!"

"You're wildly fantasising again aren't you Saori?" Hana asked in a weary tone.

As the camera displayed the two teams meeting in the centre of town, it eventually focused in on the two captains for each side. A definitive contrast, one a diminutive cadet in immaculate uniform, looking mildly disinterested, the other a bear of man, roaring with laughter at something his opposite number evidently did not find funny.

Erwin, who had only been half-focused on the screen, instead composing her plan to find her former friend, was shocked when she glanced at the name tag for the smaller boy facing the big Russian. It was him. There was no way it couldn't be. He wore similar style glasses, only marginally changed from four years before. He was in military attire, the German general's leather coat worn confidently over his cadet uniform, and he wore the Knight's Cross that she had given him as a farewell gift around his neck. The only jarring thing for Erwin was Pearce's expression, thin-lipped, disinterested and calculating. The boy she knew had worn a smile most of the time she had been around him, only removing it when he was genuinely concerned about something. This cadet had none of the openness, the joy that she had known. He almost looked machine-like, and uncaring. Erwin's face fell a little.

"Have you spotted your former comrade yet?" Saemonza whispered.

Erwin just nodded dumbly.

"He's the team captain."

**Chapter End.**

**Character Spotlight – Katherine Armstrong**

18 years of age and the captain of Clinton team, Katherine is the hard worker amongst the students. Fairly small with medium length blonde hair, usually tied up at the back, Katherine can often be found giving Chris a disapproving look for his far more lax attitude to nearly everything. Katherine usually likes to enjoy the peace and quiet when not working, and follows several sports in her spare time. She is very cheerful once she can be persuaded to relax, and is seen as a model student for many.

Character Theme: Rock Instrumental Music No.10 (look it up on youtube)

Favourite Tank: Valentine Mk11

**Academy Spotlight – Kutusov Academy**

A Russian military school, Kutusov is the ice to Pravda's fire. While Pravda often fight based on grinding attrition and blistering counteroffensives, Kutusov is the patient hunter. Utilising primarily tank destroyers and scouts despite retaining other machines, Kutusov's tactics are based in stealth and accuracy. The school's uniform is grey and black with yellow trim and its emblem is a double headed eagle gripping a red star. This academy emphasises Russian pride, and their weak showing in the senior league is a prime motivator for the junior team to excel, to redeem their honour.

**Kutusov Characters**

**Dmitry Kravchenko – Captain**

The captain of Kutusov's junior team, Kravchenko is competent but not inspiring as a tactician. His main ability is to inspire his men, which was felt necessary after Kutusov's hammering in the senior leagues. 18yrs of age, tall and imposing, Dmitry is almost bearlike in his physique, broad and with shaggy black hair. He is often jovial and frequently amused by comments, but his jokes are often less amusing, as they can be abrasive and rude to their recipient. Kravchenko is often easily provoked, especially in regard to insults to his school.

**Kristina Oborin – Second in command**

The calming influence on her somewhat hotheaded commander, Kristina keeps Dmitry calm and decisive, stopping him from lashing out against his opponents blindly. She enforces the patient hunter doctrine within the team. Kristina is far less fazed by insults and jests than her superior, and is far more polite to her opponents. Small and blonde-haired, she sticks out greatly amongst her compatriots, who are all male. She also wears a ushanka from which her blonde locks frequently spill out.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was definitely difficult for me to write, as I tried to convey depth to some of the plot. Expect this to take a back seat for some actual fighting now, as we progress into the tournament itself. Big thanks to my two mates, who review and read my work for any flaws or potential faults before I upload this. Hashing out some plot ideas with them is very useful to getting this story moving forwards.**

**I would like to see more reviews from you guys if possible, I love seeing your opinions on my work and suggestions are sometimes helpful to the story.**

**Cheeky Note – I would love to see some artwork for this series, and am willing to give virtual hugs and cybercookies to whoever does so. The same rule shall also apply for reviewers from henceforth.**

**Assuming you like my work (because otherwise you read six chapters for squat), I'll see you in chapter seven, the time of posting of which may vary.**

**Ja ne!**


	7. Chapter 7: Trial by Fire

**I just can't stop writing it seems. This chapter marks the beginning of the friendly between Kutusov and Wellesley, with a number of characters watching. A number of comments from my perennial reviewers have also flagged up things that may need to be addressed, such as the dynamic between Dmitry and Kristina, as well as the somewhat forced scene between Saemonza and Erwin. These reviewers are making suggestions which I listen to and ponder over using. Can all you other readers say the same? Your input could help this story.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Tuesday 21****st**** Jan – Rzhev – 0930hrs**

"You must be John Hart, correct? Your Wellesley uniform denotes you as one of the staff."

The somewhat surprised captain turned around, a little startled to hear anybody else's voice from his position. He was sat on the back of one of the academy's jeeps to watch the match, on a nearby ridge far enough away from the crowd to allow some undisturbed observation of the battle. Yet this woman had shattered that illusion of isolation, greeting him in a cheerful and familiar manner.

"Erm, yes, I am. Nice to meet you," he replied, standing up to shake her hand.

"I'm Ami Chouno, the instructor of Oarai Academy's tankery team. Mind if I join you?"

Hart stammered for a second.

"Not at all," he eventually responded.

"Wonderful," Ami said, as she swung herself onto the back of the jeep next to Hart, who flushed a little at how close she was to him, not that Ami seemed to care at all.

"So how would you rate your cadets?"

"They've come a long way in a short time, but I would never claim that they are veterans. Their previous training stood them in good stead, as it should, but since most of them had never touched a tank before, nor handled more than a rifle, I would say that they are doing well, Miss Chouno," Hart said modestly.

"Then it should prove an interesting tournament, no? If all these academies are arriving with promising rosters and cadets, it should shake up the league a little. I know that the League authorities are already a little shaken by Bradley's more lavish requests on rulings."

"Our American cousins have never really understood subtlety in battle. Expect extravagance and display from them when they take the field."

Ami chuckled, trying to conjure up what possible feats that could be done in such a match.

"What do you expect your team to do against Kutusov? They look to have a strong lineup, and they do outnumber your cadets," she stated.

"I expect my team to fight well. If and how they defeat their opponents is in their hands, as I am only their instructor. I can coach them, motivate them, help them become better, but I cannot win for them," Hart said sagely.

He turned to Ami with a twinkle in his eye.

"Anyway, your own team was up against worse odds at almost every stage of last term's tournament and did fine. I'm pretty sure my cadets have a good chance."

"Oarai certainly did fine last year, but I can't exactly take credit for any of it. I was assigned to watch them sink saving their school, more of an observer than an instructor, and instead they impressed us all by swimming instead."

"Of course you can take some credit! You must have taught them really well for them to achieve such a feat in so short a time."

Ami's face fell.

"Well, I don't know if what I did can be called teaching. I sort of turned up and then watched one session before leaving. I feel guilty now that I'm assigned to them again. I don't know how I can turn round what must be a terrible impression that I left, and I don't think I could bring myself to apologise to them."

"Then don't," Hart replied, "Make a fresh start and actually be there for your team. I was worried when I started teaching this new class because I kept thinking I was terrible at it. I kinda was too, but my superior sat me down and gave me some advice. I think it's a confidence thing."

"That's pretty good advice, Captain Hart."

"I don't know if I would say that, I say some stupid things at times," John replied, looking down at his shoes, "But how did you know I was a captain?"

"I can read rank pins, almost as if I'm in the military too," Ami deadpanned.

Both instructors gazed back at the enormous screen, showing both teams deploying to the field.

"Having faith in your students can also be useful too," Hart said, "If you don't have anyone encouraging you to do your best it can hurt. Teamwork and support are crucial to any cooperative venture."

**On the battlefield**

Wellesley's assigned starting location was a fairly open area in the southern area of the battlefield. Roughly 200 metres across, the open area was bordered by a steep hill to the south, dense trees to the east and west and a gentle sloping path bordered by foliage to the north. Wellesley's nine tanks occupied their deployment zone, the Achilles occupying the central spot in the line. To its right was the Tiger, followed by the three Cromwells, while the other vehicles on the team sat to the tank destroyer's left. Sat in their respective turret cupolas, Taylor and Pearce were discussing the most appropriate way to implement Chris's observation into their battle plans.

"So you still think a defensive strategy is our best option at the start of the match?" Chris asked.

"I think it is the safest strategy to ensure we are not surprised. This is home ground for the Russian team, blundering blindly into a trap is the last thing we should be doing. If being defensive initially costs us, it will at least be a low cost."

"You're talking about your comrades, Sam. They aren't just rounds of ammunition to be expended carelessly. What if this was a battlefield situation? They would be dead if you used the same logic."

"This is tankery, not war, as so many people aptly point out. Casualties are irrelevant if victory is achieved. It could cost me my entire force to achieve victory, yet as long as I get the enemy flag tank first, I have still won," Pearce replied evenly.

"That sort of thinking can also hurt people around you though," Chris responded.

Pearce raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"I am not a mind reader Christopher, I am a tactician. I cannot foresee enemy strategy and create fool-proof plans. Our matches will see casualties, and regardless of your view of my strategy, I think this one may cost us the least. In real combat I could retreat to advantageous positions or call in reinforcements. Tankery however, is a game, and non-lethal. We cannot retreat, we cannot change the terrain, and losses are inevitable."

Pearce then activated his radio.

"All teams, this is our initial deployment. Hobart and Campbell teams, you are to be in the forest on our right flank. Russell, Wavell and Roberts, you are on our left. All other teams are to be in the foliage continuing down the road. Within a kilometre is our ideal defensive spot, as the enemy has limited vision due to the terrain gradient and increasingly dense woodland. We are to move to that spot and render it defensible. When the enemy attacks we will halt their offensive and then turn it back on them. All teams are advised to watch for the SU-100 and SU-152, as they contain Kutusov's second in command and captain respectively. As Mr Taylor has surmised, Kutusov's second in command appears to be more level-headed than her superior, and hence removing her will make it easier to manipulate our enemy."

"What if the enemy doesn't attack?" Elliot asked.

"Then we hunt him down."

"That's awfully vague, Pearce," Clark interjected.

"I'm sorry I can't be more specific, but this is our first match, and none of us possess the experience with our foe to do much more planning than that. I can study as much as possible to prepare, but one cannot garner experience in battle without fighting. However, our opponent is in much the same boat. Take advantage of that relative scarcity of information to catch the foe."

Poking his head inside the tank where his own crew were waiting, Pearce looked at Stephen, who was sat stoically at his post. By contrast the rest of the crew looked a little apprehensive, excepting Liam, who was laid back in his seat with his eyes closed.

"Orders, Sam?" asked Stephen, his speech as wordy as ever.

"Prepare to move out. We can win if we try hard enough, and I will make sure we try and succeed. That's all there is to it, but before we start, someone wake Liam up."

On the other side of the field, the Kutusov team was performing similar preparations. Their deployment zone was in a fairly small clearing with narrow paths and dense forest on all sides, settled in the northern zone of the battlefield. Kutusov's eleven tanks were lined up in formation, Dmitry's SU-152 Tank Destroyer leading the pack in the centre. The other ten tanks for the team consisted of 3 T-50 scout tanks, 3 SU-76 tank destroyers, 3 SU-85 tank destroyers and 1 SU-100 tank destroyer, the latter of which was commanded by Kristina herself. Each team was named according to different kinds of soldier:

Team Cossack – SU152

Team Hunter – SU100

Team Soldier, Assassin and Mercenary – SU85

Team Brawler, Barbarian and Warrior – SU76

Team Strelet, Scout and Guerilla – T50 Scout Tank

"Based on the terrain, our diminutive adversary will most likely set his line up here and hope to spot our scouts. By handing us the initiative, we can hit him unexpectedly. Like many British commanders he is being cautious and careful, but by doing so he allows us to perform bold manoeuvres to seize victory," Kristina said, gesturing to a map laid out on Dmitry's SU-152.

A small patch of heavily rolling ground with decent lines of sight to all sides lay where Kristina's finger pointed.

"The boy will panic and his tanks will be in chaos," Dmitry chuckled.

"I suggest, sir, that we have our scout tanks move rapidly into position and then remain concealed, relaying us information."

"We then attack and crush him like a bug! I like this plan," Dmitry said, smiling as he did so.

Kristina rolled her eyes slightly, a tad irritated by Dmitry's gross oversimplification of her plan. Clambering down from the SU-152, she strolled back to her vehicle and leapt aboard, hoping for a rapid conclusion to this match. The weather was far too warm for her liking. About ten Celsius cooler would have been far more preferable.

The radio set for all teams blared into life.

"Match start."

The low grumble of tanks suddenly became a cacophony as both teams mobilised. Wellesley's team fanned out and began a steady progress towards Pearce's designated defensive area, keenly observing to detect any of the enemy's scouts. By contrast, Kutusov's team stayed fairly compact, the scout tanks scooting off at high speed to locate the enemy.

"Our hunters are eager today," Dmitry observed, spotting the alacrity with which his T-50s had sprinted off to find the enemy.

"Let us hope not too eager, or they may yet be spotted," replied Kristina.

Back in the plaza, the Oarai girls were observing both teams closely. Miho, having ascertained the terrain and the basic strategies available to both teams immediately spotted the terrain piece Wellesley wanted to hold, dominating the battlefield as it did.

"The ground in the centre is advantageous for Wellesley, but it's also a trap. The very vision range they get to find the enemy makes them more exposed to return fire from Kutusov. It's better than hunting them through the forest, but it could cost them if they don't spot the enemy soon enough."

She pointed at the icons of the three teams in the T-50 tanks, labelled as: Strelet, Scout and Guerilla.

"Those little Russian tanks will be able to conceal themselves well against the terrain and will likely feed information back to the tank destroyers. It's like possessing a live feed of your enemy's movements."

"This could be like the battle of Iwasaki castle then, should both sides fail in their primary strategy," Saemonza commented.

The Wellesley team continued their progress down the track, watchful but unimpeded, and on reaching the designated area, began to deploy into a defensive formation. The terrain itself consisted of a series of rises covered mostly in dense scrub, sufficient to conceal the smaller tanks of the Wellesley team, but not the Churchills or the Tiger. A zone of open ground occasionally broken by foliage surrounded the area, making direct assaults difficult. Were the enemy team in regular tanks, this would indeed be a formidable defensive position. On this position, the Tiger dominated the central area, with good vision angles on all sides enabling it to both spot, and be spotted by the enemy. On the northward slope, teams Allenby, Roberts and Hobart held position, watching closely for any sign of the enemy. To the east, Russell and Campbell teams kept a watchful eye out, well concealed in the scrub due to their low profiles. On the western slopes, Wavell and Marlborough teams took up sentry, the Achilles lurking slightly behind the bulky Churchill. On the southern defences, keeping a rear-guard, Clinton team's Cromwell sat, Katherine alertly surveying the landscape from her turret cupola.

"I want constant updates on any movement or threats. As soon as we find the enemy, we can pin him down and fight them. Until that time, however, we must be careful, so don't fire until you have a clear target," Pearce said.

"Understood," replied Simon, "Marlborough team is prepared."

The other teams followed suit quickly, barring Clark, who did not seem pleased by the passive stance they were taking.

"It's one thing defending this hill, but why are we being so lazy? We should be fighting back against our enemy, not letting him crush us!"

"If you wanna go ahead and fire blind at the enemy and give away your position, feel free," Chris interjected, "I'd rather let them give themselves away first, and then shoot 'em down."

The lack of response from Clark indicated her acquiescence to Pearce's order but also her indignation and impatience with said order. Pearce sighed a little.

While Wellesley's team had found and occupied their positions, the three Kutusov scout tanks had found some concealed spots to observe their opponents. They took up position on the north, west and south-eastern sides of the hill, concealed slightly by bushes, where they began relaying what they could see. While a few tanks from the British academy were obscured and camouflaged, some were spotted, and Dmitry began to issue deployment orders to his hunting tanks. His SU-152 positioned itself to the north-west, with two each of the SU-85s and the SU-76s under his direct command covering the northern and western sides of the hill. To the south-east, hoping to hit the enemy in a pincer movement, Kristina's SU-100 and the remaining tank destroyers lurked, seeking targets.

"Well John, it looks like your students have gotten themselves surrounded, and what's worse is that they don't even know it," Ami observed.

"But Kutusov probably can't see a number of our team either and so can't effectively fire upon them," John replied.

Those tanks that Kutusov could see were being targeted nonetheless, and though the concealment spared a number of teams from such a fate, it made those who could not hide far more vulnerable.

"Fire!" Dmitry roared, the tanks in his company having concentrated their fire on the two Churchills they could see.

A thunderous roar broke the relative quiet of the battlefield, the first volley of shells from the five tanks under Kravchenko's command kicking up divots in the earth around Allenby and Marlborough teams. One SU-76 round bounced off Allenby's armour plate, as all of the commanders on these slopes slammed their cupolas shut quickly, ensuring that they did not catch a stray round.

"Well, it looks like the enemy found us," Chris said, lounging back in the M10's seat, "Hannah, watch for muzzle flashes. That should give you something to aim at, but take your time. We have to hit or we get exposed."

"Well guys, it looks like we're gonna be taking some fire," Liam said to the Churchill crew, "But we have some good armour, so we should be okay for now. Bethan, start aiming at any that you can spot, so we can send some love right back to them."

Despite the initial barrage of shells on the Wellesley team, no response was forthcoming from the defenders, who merely began rotating their turrets towards their attackers, seeking their foe. After a second volley of shells landed, closer to their marks than the last, the Churchills began to return fire, some of the enemy's rounds bouncing off their heavily armoured hulls. The SU-76s were ineffective against the incredibly thick plate of the Churchill, so they ceased fire until a less thick-skinned target presented itself. The SU-85s, however, could damage the Churchill at their current distance, and so could the SU-152 'Zveroboy' (Beast Hunter). Their shots began to creep closer to the Churchills as the fire exchange continued.

As the main cadre of Kutusov's team attacked the northern and western parts of the hill, Kristina organised her smaller force for an attack in the south-east. Seeing no foes ahead of her on the slopes, she sent Strelet team's T-50 speeding across the open ground to do some scouting. The closest team on the T-50s line of advance was Russell team, who spotted the speeding object fairly rapidly.

"Hey, Stephen! There's an enemy closing in fast on our position," Jake, Russell team's gunner reported.

"Have you got him lined up?" his commander asked

"Damn right I do."

"Then take him out!" ordered Stephen.

The 75mm in the Cromwell recoiled as a round was sent flying towards the little scout, which began weaving as several more shells followed it.

"Stay still you bastard!" Jake shouted as he tried to get a clean hit.

Stephen was about to respond to his subordinate, but a voice cut in on the radio.

"I take it you have visual confirmation of the enemy, Mr Hawke?" Pearce's voice asked accusingly. He had evidently heard the sound of fire from his position on the central hill.

"Er, yeah, one of their scouts was making a dash towards our positions, so we're trying to keep him out of our perimeter," Stephen said sheepishly.

"If he's trying to break our perimeter then he might be reconnoitring for an attack. Be on alert for more enemy vehicles, and switch positions every few shots so you can't be locked onto."

No sooner had Pearce spoken than a shot rang out from the trees in the south-east. Kristina's SU-100 had just put a shot into Russell team's frontal armour, neat as you please. The high velocity shell had hammered home, signalling first blood for Kutusov.

"The SU-100 got us sir," reported Stephen.

"Any of your team incapacitated?"

"We're pretty much fine. David hit his head on the roof, but that's it."

Pearce decided on his plan quickly. Given the rain of shells that Kutusov were laying down in the north-west, it seemed that the majority of the opposing team were there, while the SU-100 was in the south, one of Kutusov's two big guns.

"Elliot, Anna, pull Hobart and Roberts teams back and head to the opposite side of the hill. When you reach our south-eastern perimeter, take Clinton team, Campbell team and close in on the woods as fast as possible. Aim to take out their SU-100. All other teams, begin to retreat towards the centre of our defensive position. See if you can draw Kutusov out. Montgomery team will position itself centrally so that it can provide support for both teams. Chris, do you have a target?"

"Not much of one yet, these guys are pretty good at hiding," Chris reported.

"When you have a firm lock, take them out, I want to keep them at bay on that flank."

As Pearce issued his orders, the spectators were discussing the implications of this first knock-out.

"Now Kutusov has the advantage by three tanks," Hana observed.

"That may be so, but they have three scout tanks more than their opponent, which are of dubious effectiveness against most of Wellesley's tanks. They would have to get behind them to knock the enemy out on their own, and their armour is very weak, even if it is sloped," Miho replied.

One of those scouts, Strelet team, having skirted southwards to avoid most of Russell team's fire brought their tank up the southern side of Wellesley's defensive position. As they were about to report the slope was cleared, and had no defenders, another 75mm gun opened fire on them from behind a large patch of brush. Unlike Russell team, Katherine's Clinton team had waited until the T-50 was far closer to them and hammered a high velocity round straight into the tank's frontal armour. The little tank came to a screeching halt, and moments later raised the surrender flag to indicate its defeat.

"We've taken out one of the T-50s Sam," Katherine relayed to her commander.

"Good, that leaves them down a pair of eyes," Pearce replied, "And now they think the southern side of our perimeter is defended. Go and join the other two teams in the south-east. If we can take out some of their force while it is divided, we have all the more chance to win."

"Affirmative," Katherine acknowledged, before addressing her crew, "Right team, it's time to put our backs into it. Let's go."

While Pearce re-deployed his forces, the firefight on the opposite side of the hill had continued. The two Churchill tanks of Allenby and Marlborough team had been under constant fire for almost ten minutes, and it was clear to any observer. Both tanks had several marks from glancing hits and shrapnel as the SU-85s had repeatedly tried to penetrate their armour. Kravchenko's SU-152 had also landed one hit on Allenby team, knocking out their turret with their heavy howitzer's blast. Return fire from the two heavy tanks had also inflicted minor damage on their opponents. One of the SU-85s, Team Mercenary, had lost its right track and was thus immobilised. Wavell and Roberts team had not yet fired on their opponents, choosing to remain as stealthy as possible in case the enemy revealed themselves. Kutusov's tank destroyers were not so forthcoming though, and although both teams had targets, they were not sure enough of them to fire, and expose themselves to the inevitable return barrage.

All four tanks in the frontline began a steady retreat into the centre of their position, hugging folds of ground to minimise their exposure to fire. Marlborough team fired token shots in return at the enemy vehicles, but hit nothing. Seeing the enemy retreat to beyond effective range, Dmitry began to move his troops forward.

"All vehicles, begin an assault-"

"Dmitry, have you forgotten the need for stealth? Even if you don't have the range, you can't let them lure you in," Kristina interrupted.

"But they are fleeing from us! We need to press our assault," Dmitry said forcefully.

"Do so! Move to the edge of the forest cover to get your range, but don't let them lure you into the open. A number of their tanks are still not accounted for and we don't want to expose ourselves too much. Patience is a virtue, Dmitry, and while being bold is admirable, caution is similarly appreciated."

"Of course," Dmitry replied, his voice a lot calmer, "You always know best Kristina. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Kravchenko's contingent of tanks rolled forward to the edge of the treeline, barring Mercenary team, who were still fixing their track, and retargeted the retreating vehicles. Spying the already crippled Churchill of Allenby team, Dmitry ordered his gunners to target the lumbering tank as it fell back further.

"Let's finish the job," the big man growled.

A full volley of shells whistled out from the treeline at the Churchill. While Dmitry's tank missed its mark slightly, team Assassin's SU-85 hit home, finally scoring a penetration on the heavily armoured flank of the Churchill. Another vehicle kill was claimed for Kutusov. The desultory return fire from the remaining Churchill caused no damage to the victorious Russian tanks. The tank destroyers then began retargeting the other Churchill, the only other visible vehicle in their vicinity. The SU-76s also joined in, hoping to take out one of the vehicle's tracks and immobilise it, making easier to kill.

"Steady it and you'll chalk yourself up a nice kill marking in your first match, Hannah," Chris encouraged, as his gunner tracked muzzle flashes in the treeline.

A thunderous roar and a bright flash from further up the hill heralded the destruction of one of the SU-76s. Wavell team had joined the fun, and just as quickly left it, the tank destroyer swung round rapidly, and dashing off over a rise before Kutusov could respond, leaving the flash struck teams rubbing their sore eyelids.

Unfazed, Dmitry's contingent, now joined by the repaired Mercenary team, continued to rain fire down upon the Churchill of Marlborough team, who had wisely obscured themselves using a dip in the ground to mitigate oncoming fire.

"This could be like the siege of Tobruk, a valiant few holding out against a superior force," Erwin murmured as she watched the screens.

"Or maybe like the town of Bastogne during the battle of the Bulge," Yukari offered, giving her a cheery smile.

"Both times the defenders held out and were eventually victorious," Miho said, "Are you perhaps rooting for the Wellesley team already?"

Both of the other girls were caught off guard by Miho's comment, and began vehemently and frantically denying such views. Miho giggled at their reaction.

As the furious firefight in the north-west continued, the other tanks of Wellesley's team had slipped away to the south, where they were preparing to strike at Kristina's force. The main problem was the lack of information as to the exact position of their foes, but one thing was clear: the need to cross the open ground quickly. Fortunately, with a force composed of two Cromwells, a Comet and a Chaffee, speed was clearly well within their reach. Deciding that the Comet had the best chance of surviving a hit from the SU-100, Hobart team would be leading the charge, with the other three tanks following behind rapidly. The Tiger would be sat on the hill waiting for a target, in order to provide suppressing fire.

"Ready?" Elliot enquired of his fellows.

"Affirmative," his comrades responded.

Bursting out from the bushes on the slope and accelerating at dangerous speeds, Hobart team began the race to cross the open ground. Two seconds into their dash, the other members of the team gunned their engines and followed Hobart down into the kill-box. Five seconds in, three shots whistled out of the trees, screaming past the Comet as it weaved, the crew pushing their vehicle to its mechanical limits, limits they knew well from working on the vehicle. A second volley came even closer to the tank, but only two shots this time. The SU-76 was targeting the lightly armoured Chaffee, aiming between Hobart and Roberts team for the scout tank.

A thunderous roar from behind the speeding tanks informed them that Pearce was returning fire for them, and the guns on the British vehicles opened up to add to the suppression of the enemy. While they were firing into the woods at muzzle flashes, the effect of the shells whistling towards Kutusov's tank destroyers was enough to persuade the Russians to reposition and space their shots, denying accurate targeting to the Wellesley team. The enemy line was roughly 400m into the woods, giving the British tanks half a kilometre to close on their opponents as they raced across the open ground.

"Get in close to them," Pearce advised, "Remember that they have fixed guns, so if you can flank them they can't retaliate."

"Speed is our ally then," Elliot replied, "Katherine, Anna, can you head more for their flanks? That'll divide their attention and will allow us a better chance to get round behind them."

"We'll take the left," Anna responded.

"So we'll take the right," Katherine confirmed.

The four tanks in the group sped into the forest at high speed, slowing only slightly to allow for the more restrictive terrain. The two Cromwells began to deviate slowly from the formation, dividing their opponents' shell fire as the Russian tanks began to target different vehicles. The range continued to close as the speedy tanks of Wellesley's brigade accelerated towards their opponent.

On the right, Clinton team's Cromwell faced down the SU-85 of Kutusov's Soldier team. The tank destroyer was patiently judging its shots even as the British tank wove slightly through the undergrowth to confound their aim. It was only a matter of time before one of those rounds found their mark, the 76mm thick glacis plate of the Cromwell no match for the 85mm gun of the Russian tank destroyer. A plume of smoke and a harsh impact greeted Clinton team as the SU-85 slammed its round home as the team reached the 100m range. As she recovered from the impact, Katherine slammed her hand on the bulkhead next to her commander's seat.

"It looks like we're out of it," she reported in, before turning to her team with a big smile, "It looks like we need some extra practice."

Clinton team groaned.

On the other flank of the Wellesley formation, Roberts team were having an easier time of it, as it seemed that the SU-76 they faced were struggling to damage them. The ZIS-3T gun on the SU-76 had hit Roberts team squarely but the shell had bounced off the armour plate. However, as the range closed, the SU-76's gun was definitely not going to bounce, so Roberts team focused on weaving between the foliage patches to disrupt their opponent's aim.

"This would be a lot easier if we had some of that plating we've been working on welded to our tank," Anna muttered as the tank bounced over the rough ground.

"Yeah, but the rules say we can't put materials on the tank that weren't in military service before the end of the war," her communicator, Lauren, contested, "Otherwise we could just put modern plating on everything and we'd be invincible."

"Stupid rules," Anna huffed.

Roberts team by this point had closed the distance sufficiently to their opponent that their fire could be accurate, and while the Cromwell's rate of fire dipped slightly, the crew aiming to destroy rather than suppress their opponents, the margin of error on their shellfire also decreased, putting the SU in danger. The tank destroyer began to back off slightly as the R&D team sped towards them, a move that actually made them more vulnerable as their shots became even less accurate. This gave the cadets all the opportunity they needed as they put their tank alongside the Russian vehicle and fired, the thin armour of the tank destroyer proving no match for the Cromwell's 75mm. Roberts team then wasted no time in correcting their course to roll up the enemy's flank, so that they could help their teammates.

"The enemy is attacking us in force. We lost Brawler team," Kristina reported to Dmitry.

"How many of them are there?" her commander queried.

"Four originally, three now."

Dmitry did some quick mental maths. That left three tanks on the hill given that Wellesley had already lost three. He grinned, and ordered his vehicles forward. The Churchill and Achilles had both since left effective range, but Dmitry had kept his tanks hidden in the treeline, content for the moment to be patient. That time was now over, but no sooner had his vehicles broken cover, a heavy round dug up the earth nearby, halting the Russian tanks in their tracks. As the vehicles retreated to the treeline, Dmitry pulled out a pair of binoculars and popped the turret hatch. Gazing up at the rolling terrain he spotted a bush on the highest point, a small glint giving away the presence of the Tiger. Evidently the Wellesley team were watching them in case Dmitry tried to relieve his second-in-command. Grunting in frustration, the Russian sent half of his force slightly further south, and the others more to the east, hugging the treeline as they did so, so that they could attack the ridgeline from north and west, splitting their opponents' attention.

"Do you think the Wellesley cadets can hold their defensive position against those opponents?" Yukari asked Miho.

"We held a far greater foe at bay for a while in the finals, and the cadets have some good vehicles, so they should at least put up a fight. The terrain's in their favour too," Miho spoke, as she considered all the strategic options.

"What about the fight in the forest?" Hana inquired.

"While the Wellesley cadets had to sprint across the open ground into a defensive area, their tanks are fast and reasonably well armoured. Now that they've gotten in close they should be able to cause some damage to the tank destroyers, as their fixed guns leave them vulnerable to being flanked."

"So it's like being blindsided by a new guy when your attention is fixed on someone else?" Saori summed up the situation in her own particular way.

"Kinda," Miho replied, quite amused by Saori's observation.

Whilst the Oarai girls continued discussing the tactical situation, Hobart team's Comet kept on target, it's weaving course taking them closer to the SU-100.

"Angela, can you overtake us and swing round the enemy flank? We've got something new to try," Elliot broadcast to Campbell team.

"This better not get us taken out tech-boy," Clark retorted.

The M24 sped up and overtook the Comet, heading for the left flank of the SU-100. Kristina, torn between targeting the faster closing enemy or the more heavily armed tank, chose the former, the shell whistling just past the left side of the little scout. Taking advantage of the gap in the enemy's targeting, Hobart team slammed on the brakes, stopping their vehicle dead, and rapidly aiming at the tank destroyer. The turret swung round and locked onto the Russian foe, placing a 77mm round straight into the front plate of the SU. The APCBC shell collided with the front glacis plate of the target with deafening thud, and the little white flag popped out of the roof to herald a kill shot. Hobart team began to cheer inside their vehicle, sharing high-fives all around.

"Looks like the short stop worked," Elliot observed, "Thanks for being the bait Angie!"

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you Elliot!" Clark screamed back at him.

'Now we just have one more to take down,' Elliot thought, as his crew began to rotate the Comet.

Sadly for Hobart team, they wouldn't be taking any more of Kutusov's team down, as the stationary tank provided a superb target for the SU-85 of Soldier team, who chalked up their second kill of the match by placing a round square into the Comet's flank. In doing so, however, Soldier team opened themselves up to retribution from two 75mm guns, courtesy of both Roberts and Campbell team, who were bearing down on the remaining Russian vehicle with great speed. Struck twice, with one shell disabling the right tread and the other hitting the turret mounting, Soldier team were taken out of the match.

"Miss Clark, how is the situation looking?" enquired Pearce.

"We got 'em all, including that Kristina girl, but we lost your techie friend and Armstrong."

"Good. Head north, hugging the treeline and then move west. Remain in cover at all times and see if you can spot where the enemy is, we've had no contact for the last few minutes."

"Acknowledged. We've got a good chance to win this Pearce, so don't fuck it up."

"I'll try not to disappoint you, Angela," Pearce replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Sat on the back of his jeep, Hart took a sip from a bottle of water. He offered it to Ami, who took a long gulp from the bottle.

"Your team are impressing me so far, Captain Hart. For a group of rookies, it's quite astonishing to see them pull off manoeuvres like the short stop in so short a time," the raven-haired instructor observed.

"I didn't even know that the engineers could do it either," Hart replied, "They must have done some out-of-hours practice."

"But for all of these destructions on both teams, we are still no closer to seeing a flag tank taken out. Have they lost sight of their objective?"

"Both teams have made it difficult to get their flag tank, Wellesley by placing the Tiger in the centre of their defences, Kutusov by concealing it from their opponents. I would imagine the end-game will be soon."

Back on the battlefield, Dmitry was considering his options, and growing more frustrated by the second, as those options were dwindling. He had lost his flanking force, had to attack a defensive position, and enemy reinforcements were on the way. He had also lost his second in command, and slammed his fist into the turret cupola, deciding that he would make his opponents pay for trying to make a fool of him. They dared to show his team up! Kutusov academy would not be defeated this term, even in a friendly.

"Prepare to assault the ridgeline! If we can catch them without half their force, we can take out their flag tank! Oorah!" Dmitry barked, the rest of his team replying with "Oorah!"

The first Wellesley knew of the Dmitry's final push were two blurs, speeding out from the bushes on the northern and western flanks of the rolling ground. The two T-50s, gunning their engines, sped towards the slope, hoping to persuade Wellesley to target them. The exposed Churchill of Marlborough team in the north did so, its 6 pounder gun seeking the small tank. As the scouts tried to distract the team, Kutusov's remaining forces rolled out of the woods, firing as they went, hoping to close the distance to their foe, Dmitry and one SU-85 in the west, the other SU-85 and the SU-76 in the north. The tank destroyers used a leapfrog style formation in pairs, one rolling forward while the other stopped to fire, seeking to suppress the cadets on the hill.

The T-50 in the western group stopped abruptly as it was hit by a high velocity round, the bright flash betraying the presence of the M10. As expected, Wellesley's sniper had held their aim for a long while to get that one-shot kill and remain concealed for as long as possible. The tank began to scamper back to the centre of the high ground as it was targeted, but was stopped dead by the howitzer mounted on Dmitry's SU-152. Despite missing the tank by nearly a foot, the shell spalling mangled the left tread on the Achilles, halting it dead.

"Well, it looks like out future is looking a little rocky now," Chris remarked.

"How can you be so calm!" Amy shouted back at him from her driver's seat.

"Because we can't do anything about it. Do you fancy getting out to fix our track?"

The next casualty in the battle for the hill was the SU-85 on the northern flank, Team Mercenary. Choosing to lend his tank's weight to the defence of this slope, Pearce's Tiger 131 fired three rounds in the direction of the tank destroyers from its vantage point on the high ground. The first fell short, the second missed the vehicle's left flank by half a metre, but the final round crashed home, knocking the tank destroyer out in a plume of smoke. Without any way to deal with the Churchill facing them from the front, the T-50 and the SU-76 continued their headlong charges, hoping to assail the weak rear armour of the lumbering tank. They did so with greater alacrity when they noticed, emerging from the treeline on their left, Roberts and Campbell teams, who began firing as soon as they hit effective range.

"Looks like the cavalry's coming," Simon observed, as he watched his teammates hammer into the enemy's left flank.

In the west, Wavell team continued to resist the advancing Russians, and were joined in the final fight by the Tiger. Repositioning a short way from Wavell team's Achilles, Montgomery team began laying rounds towards Cossack and Assassin teams, who were still hammering away at the Achilles. With the Tiger choosing to expose itself, the Russian tanks chose to retarget the Wellesley flag tank, bidding to end the match as Dmitry had hoped. The Russian tanks clattered to a stop in the hopes of getting an accurate shot.

"What the fuck are you doing Sam? We could lose if they hit you!" Chris shouted.

Pearce's initial response was partially drowned out as the 88mm gun in the Tiger flattened Assassin team's SU-85.

"-about not needlessly sacrificing teammates," Pearce replied.

"You could have picked a better time to follow my advice than now, Sam!"

"According to Katherine, that better time is never," Pearce said dryly.

"Well then, maybe you should have followed her advice over mine!" Chris said sarcastically.

Before Pearce could respond, another howitzer shell burst near the two tanks, some of the spalling tearing the S-mine launchers from Pearce's turret. The Tiger rolled back behind the ridge, provoking Dmitry to try and continue his attack up the hill. The Russian tank surged up the slope to try and take out Wellesley's flag tank in one last desperate push, as the radio announced the loss of the last SU-76 in the north. It came down to which tank could hit the other first, neither tank possessing the thickness of armour necessary to withstand each other's guns.

However, Pearce's intervention had distracted the Kutusov team from the stricken Achilles, allowing the tank destroyer to stay in the fight, wisely avoiding firing so as not to draw attention. As the Kutusov flag tank rolled past, Chris had Hannah retarget the 17 pounder. The M10 was now aiming straight at Kravchenko's SU-152 as the tank was climbing the ridgeline, about 50m to go to the peak. The shell roared out from the 17 pounder, missing the mark by a fractional amount, but achieving the desired effect. The SU, now stranded between two teams, was now an enormous and immensely vulnerable target, and the crew knew it. Dmitry decided that the wisest course of action was to continue his attack and kept the tank rolling forward, with the possibility that their opponents might miss and that Kutusov may yet win.

Sadly for Dmitry, Hannah corrected her previous miss with a shot that was fully on target, hammering into the rear plate of the SU just shy of the centre. A plume of smoke rose from the impact area.

Across the battlefield, both teams ceased fire as all communication devices blared to life.

"Match over. Kutusov flag tank disabled. Wellesley Royal Military Academy wins."

**There we go! Another chapter completed! I hope you enjoyed this, the first proper battle in this fic. I tried to make it as competitive as possible. I will be returning with the aftermath after a brief vacation, so don't expect an update for at least three weeks.**

**Ja ne!**

**Vehicle Spotlight – Tiger '131'**

**The Panzerkampfwagen VI, named 'Tiger', is often recognised as the most fearsome tank of all time. Nearly 3 metres tall, over 6 metres long and 3.5 wide, this behemoth was rightly heralded as a deadly weapon. Only 1350 of these tanks were made, but their nearly impervious nature during the early and middle stages of the war gave them a terrifying reputation. During one engagement in Russia, a Tiger tank was hit 227 times, suffering damage to tracks, transmission and wheels, yet drove 65km back to German lines. Such exploits made the vehicle a legend, further compounded by their veteran crews, of which fourteen claimed over 100 vehicle kills each. The 88mm gun that the Tiger carried was capable of making a mess of most allied vehicles at standard ranges or above, and the armour of the Tiger, while not sloped, often prevented the same happening to it. Only by the very end of the war, with Germany essentially on its knees, did the allied cause have sufficiently powerful tanks to face Tigers in a stand-up fight. The major flaws of the Tiger came from its unsloped armour and over-engineered design, the former meaning that shells often did not bounce off the armour plate and the latter causing the machine to be temperamental and maintenance heavy. Germany eventually phased the Tiger I out for the Tiger IIB, or King Tiger, an even heavier and more cumbersome vehicle, but the originals remained in service to the final days of the war, prowling the streets of Berlin.**

**Tiger 131 was captured in Tunisia by British forces in 1943. A shot from a Churchill of the 48****th**** Royal Tank Regiment jammed the turret traverse and the crew bailed out, leaving the vehicle almost wholly intact. The vehicle was taken back to England and studied for military research, and was then handed to Bovington tank museum in 1951, where in reality, it still resides, having been restored to full working order as one of seven remaining Tigers. However, in this story, Bovington handed the tank over to Wellesley military academy to repair and restore due to lack of funds, where it is deployed infrequently for certain tankery team commanders. Pearce is one of these, as the first junior team captain. **


End file.
